


Covert Response Unit

by elaine



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, Drama, Jim Ellison is kind of a bastard, M/M, Sentinel Senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-22
Updated: 2005-11-22
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is abducted by a shadowy government agency. what could they possibly want with an Anthropology student?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covert Response Unit

 

"Blair Sandburg?"

"Yeah. Who's asking?" Pushing the windblown hair out of his eyes, Blair glanced from the slim, sharply handsome man who'd spoken, to his companion - a congenial looking African-American. They were both dressed in suits that practically screamed "Federal Agent".

His suspicion was strengthened when the two exchanged a quick look. The slim man spoke again. "We'd like you to come with us, sir."

A hand indicated an expensive black sedan, parked on the other side of the road. It sure didn't look like a police car. Blair swallowed nervously. "Not until I see some identification."

The dark man sighed, and produced a wallet. "We're Federal Agents, Mr Sandburg. Please get in the car."

"Hang on, hang on." Irritation sharpened Blair's voice. He noted the agent's name - Henri Brown - and the department, which he'd never heard of. What they would want with an Anthropology student was beyond his comprehension, and surely his involvement in a few eco protests wasn't likely to bring him the attention of a department with the vaguely threatening title of Covert Response Unit. "I want to know what I'm being charged with."

Polite smiles from both men did little to reassure him. The slim man, still unidentified, took his arm. Blair resisted. "Mr Sandburg, you're not being charged with anything."

"We're hoping you can help us." Brown seemed amused. "In a professional capacity, that is."

"Man, you must have the wrong Blair Sandburg. I'm an anthropologist, not a spy." He glanced over to where his trusty old Volvo was parked, wondering if he had any hope of making it that far. Unfortunately, he didn't give much for his chances, and there was nobody around this late on a cold, squally Friday evening to see what was happening. "Look, why don't we..."

Brown took his other arm and between them, the two men propelled him towards the waiting car. "It's cool, kid. There's someone who wants to talk with you. Just hear him out and then you can either stay or go."

"Sure." Blair struggled, but the two men had a firm grip on his arms, and he could see there was someone else in the car. The back door opened slightly. "I bet you say that to all the people you abduct."

Brown chuckled and the other man grinned. "Yeah, we do. But this time we mean it."

By then it was too late. Blair was shoved unceremoniously, but not roughly, into the back seat and Brown climbed in after him. There was a bulky African-American on Blair's other side. Panic spiked and his heart began to pound as he realised he couldn't see out the windows, or the glass partition that separated them from the front seat. Already it was far too late, even if there'd been any hope of escape. The slim man slipped into the front and the car took off with a smooth purr.

* * *

They drove for about thirty minutes before pulling into an underground parking garage. As soon as the car drew to a halt, Blair was hustled out and into an elevator. With an agent on either side of him, and another between him and the doors, Blair was effectively trapped. There were only six floors, and they got off on the fifth.

There was nobody else around. Even the receptionist's desk looked like it hadn't been used in weeks, and Blair's nervousness increased. As usual, he tried to deal with it by talking. "Hey, you guys haven't told me your names. I mean, I already know Henri's name, so if you're gonna, you know, dispose of me, you might as well tell me your names too, huh?"

The big man smiled kindly at him. "Nobody's going to dispose of you, Blair. My name's Joel Taggart, and this is..."

"Rafe." The slim man interrupted. "Just Rafe, okay?"

In spite of the fact that they could easily be lying through their teeth, Blair relaxed a little. "So what am I doing here? I mean, it's not like anthropology is likely to be much use to guys like you."

A door opened at the far end of the hallway, and a man stood silhouetted in the light from inside. "You'd be surprised, Sandburg. Bring him through, gentlemen."

Blair blinked. The newcomer was at least twenty feet away and had been behind a closed door. He glanced around as he was hurried forward. There was no sign of surveillance equipment, though it could be hidden, but the whole set up seemed to have been done in haste, with none of the little touches that usually graced even the most utilitarian of government offices. Somehow, he doubted this was a permanent set up.

The room at the end of the hallway was even more barren, and lit by a single, weak bulb. The sole occupant stood in front of one chair, and there was only one other in the room. A small side table held a carafe of water and some glasses. That was all the room contained.

Brown, Rafe and Taggart didn't follow Blair into the room. He saw the newcomer nod dismissively and turned to see the trio retreat. Taggart smiled reassuringly as he closed the door. Blair turned back to the other man, knowing from the body language of the others, that this was their leader.

He was taller than any of the others, and the tailored suit covered, without hiding, a muscular build. His hair was dark and cut very short above a high forehead accentuated by a receding hairline. Even in this low light, he was wearing sunglasses. He looked dangerous.

"So..." Blair bounced a little, nervously, on the balls of his feet, wishing he could just run the hell away. "You mind telling me what this is all about?"

"I have every intention of doing exactly that. Please sit down." The other man waited until Blair complied, then sat too. In spite of the sunglasses, Blair had no difficulty in telling that the man was staring at him with unnerving intensity. "It may save a lot of time if I tell you that I am aware of your field of study, and the subject of your doctoral dissertation."

"What doctoral dissertation, man?" Blair heard the bitterness in his voice. Two years of work was about to go down the drain because he hadn't been able to find a singe subject to study. "You obviously have me confused with someone else. I've been ABD for the last two years and it doesn't look like changing any time soon. In fact, I've been given a month to find a new subject or I'll be kicked out of the doctoral program."

"I'm aware of that too." The man smiled faintly. "I think I can help you."

"The only way you can help is by finding me a Sent..." Blair's voice trailed off and he stared open-mouthed at the other man. Suddenly, the significance of his surroundings struck him - the dim light, the stark room, the complete hush... and this guy had heard his words from behind a closed door and over a distance of twenty feet. The sunglasses too... it all added up. "My God... you're a Sentinel."

"I have...what do you call them? Hyperactive senses." The man's thin lips thinned even further. "I need help, and I'm prepared to allow you to study me because you seem to be the only person who knows anything about it."

* * *

Two hours later, Blair looked at his subject and thought that Jim Ellison was about ready to murder him. The feeling was mutual. "Look, Jim. You can't expect me to wave some kind of magic wand here and fix everything just like that. Okay? We have to work on this and it would really help if you'd be a bit more cooperative."

Ellison glared at him from reddened eyes. The effect was quite terrifying, if Blair thought too much about it, so he resolutely didn't. "It's very simple, Sandburg. You either fix this, or find a way to turn it off. I can't do my job like this."

"You can't turn it off." He'd already been over this more than once. "Besides, why would you want to? Just think what an asset Sentinel senses could be in your line of work."

"At this rate they'll get me killed." Ellison pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "All right. Just tell me what to do again."

"It's late and we're both tired." Blair dropped into a chair. "How about we meet again in the morning? I've got the whole weekend free. Or at least, most of it. I've got this date tomorrow night?" he leered outrageously, deciding not to mention that it was with a guy, "so, maybe we could make a late start on Sunday, and..."

Ellison stared coldly at him. "Oh, no. You're not leaving my custody until this is over."

"What?" His exhaustion disappeared in a wash of chill fear. Blair's eyes flickered to the door, wondering whether he had a hope in hell of getting out. "No way, man. You gave me your word..."

"And I'll keep it. But this is not negotiable." Ellison's hand clamped down on his shoulder and Blair gave up all hope of escape. That hand was as solid and immovable as an iron vice. "Security comes first." He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. Blair saw him flinch.

"You've got a problem with the cell phone?"

"There's this high pitched whine. It's like feedback, you know?" Ellison grimaced as he punched in the numbers. "Ellison. We're finished for the night. Is everything ready?" He grunted once and closed the connection.

"Okay, you really need some white noise generators to help with your hearing." Blair frowned, trying to think of what else might help take the edge off painfully acute senses. "Where do you get your shirts and underwear laundered? Do you know what kind of detergent they use?"

"Later." Ellison hauled Blair to his feet. "We're going upstairs. There's a room set up for you. We'll start again at seven thirty."

Oh great. Blair allowed himself to be herded out of the room.

* * *

Saturday didn't go much better. Ellison refused to answer any questions about his family, his medical history or how the Sentinel senses had developed, except to confirm that he'd spent several days in some kind of isolation. He wasn't interested in testing his senses to establish a baseline. In spite of their agreement, it wasn't looking like Blair was going to get much in the way of useful information for his dissertation, although now that he had a real live Sentinel to work with, the dissertation paled in importance. This was his dream come true.

His big, irascible, uncooperative dream stopped its pacing and glared at him for the umpteenth time today. "You want me to  _what_?"

"Meditation is a well documented, effective way of reducing tension and lowering blood pressure." Blair licked his lips nervously, "and all the documentation available says that there is a spiritual component to the Sentinel..."

"But a spirit  _animal_?" Ellison shook his head muttering under his breath. "This is crazy."

"Think of it as a guided meditation. A way of getting in touch with hidden levels of your psyche." Blair allowed himself to really look at his subject. They guy was a walking wet dream, but Blair had a feeling that showing his appreciation might not be the smartest thing he could do, so he'd been avoiding looking too hard. Now, he saw that Jim Ellison was tired. More than just tired - exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot and circled with dark shadows. His face was pale and drawn and there were two deep lines between his eyebrows that spoke clearly of a severe headache. "Have you ordered that white noise generator yet?"

Ellison shook his head impatiently. "I haven't had time."

"Then  _make_  time, dammit. How do you expect to..." Blair stopped as Ellison's brows snapped together. "Just give me your cell phone, will you? What's the speed dial number for your... assistants?"

"Four."

Blair punched in the number with more force than was strictly necessary, muttering under his breath in the full knowledge that Ellison could hear every unflattering word.

"Taggart."

"Hey. Joel. It's Blair. Your boss needs some things. You got a pen and paper?" He waited while Taggart found the necessary items. "Okay. I want you to go to the electronics shop at 3215 Vincent and ask for a white noise generator. If they don't have one in stock, they'll be able to direct you to another place that does." What else would Ellison need? Oh, yeah... "then I want you to go to the Earth Shop on 28th and Tacoma and buy their unscented laundry detergent, some hypoallergenic shower gel, and vegetable based soap. Oh, and some body lotion for sensitive skin. Got that?"

"I've got it."

"All right. Now, we'll also need some underwear for your boss and some T-shirts and sweat pants. All of them one hundred percent cotton." He grinned at the sight of Ellison's clenched jaw, but the big man made no objection. "Then you take them to a Laundromat and run them through two wash cycles with the laundry detergent and then a third one with just plain water. When they're dry bring them back here."

"Can I speak to Jim?" Taggart sounded dubious.

"Sure. Oh, while you're waiting for the laundry, can you see if you can get some fresh fruit and vegetables - organic - and wholegrain bread, milk, butter. Fresh squeezed juice, yoghurt. Everything organic, okay?" He handed the cell phone to Ellison. "Joel wants to talk to you."

"Ellison. Yeah." The big man sighed sharply. "Look, just do what he says." He broke the connection shoved the phone into his pocket. "Now what?"

"Now you relax for a while." Blair gestured to the narrow bed that he'd slept on the previous night. The room was only marginally more comfortable than the bare office he'd met Ellison in last night. "You can start by taking off your jacket and tie."

* * *

Dressed in sweats and a pair of white athletic socks, Jim Ellison didn't look any less dangerous. Or less attractive. He did, however, seem a lot more comfortable. Blair had sent Joel out again with a list of herbal teas to obtain, and had been dosing Ellison with them for most of the afternoon. He'd also made the Sentinel take a shower and wash himself with the hypoallergenic shower gel.

Then he'd switched on the white noise generator and watched as the tension eased from Ellison's face.

"Okay, I'm going to get you to lie down again, and I'll give you a massage..." Ellison turned an incredulous glare on him, "a  _foot_  massage, Jim, nothing that'll threaten your masculinity. Right?"

Ellison snorted. "I don't think my masculinity's in any danger from you, Sandburg."

"Fine." Blair scowled. "Just lie down, will you?"

Fifteen minutes later Ellison was relaxed. And snoring softly. Blair covered him with a light rug and took the cell phone out into the hallway. Quickly, he dialled his lover's cell phone. "Hey, Russ? I'm not going to be able to make it tonight... No. I'm  _sorry_. Really. It's just, something's come up and... Russ...  _Russ_... I'm not whispering. Okay, I am, but..." he squawked as the cell phone was snatched out of his hand and switched off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Okay,  _now_  Blair was scared. A furious, threatening Ellison standing over him was an awesome sight, and not in a good way. "I told you no phone calls."

"Hey.  _I_  told you I had a date planned tonight." Blair drew himself up to his full five-seven and matched scowl for scowl. "What do you think was going to happen when I didn't turn up?" He poked the Sentinel in the chest with an accusing finger. " _I_  have friends who care about me, man."

"Boyfriends, you mean." Ellison crowded him against the wall, using his entire body to intimidate the smaller man.

"Yeah? So what are you gonna do about it? Beat up the faggot?" Blair's heart was hammering painfully against his ribs. He'd never been so scared, or so turned on, in his life. What the fuck was  _wrong_  with him? "You do that, and you'll never get the help you need."

A soundless snarl twisted Ellison's lips, then he backed away. "Let's get one thing straight. I don't give a shit who you fuck, or who fucks you. Just don't screw with me, and  _don't_  try to make any more phone calls. You got that?"

There was obviously no use in pointing out that having the call cut off so abruptly was likely to raise the alarm even sooner. And, frankly, he didn't really care. Blair nodded jerkily. "Loud and clear."

"Then let's just get back to work. We're wasting time here."

* * *

It was late Sunday morning before Blair thought of the dials, and by then he could have kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. Ellison was resistant to almost every suggestion that didn't fit his narrow belief system, and that included such things as yoga, meditation and breathing exercises. Blair was running out of ideas and just about climbing the walls in frustration when the idea came to him.

"Okay. You want control, right?"

"I thought I'd made that perfectly clear," Ellison snapped. The frown lines were back between his eyebrows.

"You're gonna have to trust me on this." He ignored the inelegant snort. "If you can do this, it'll give you control. I guarantee it."

Ellison sighed. "All right. What do I have to do?"

"Lie down. Get comfortable." Blair waited while Ellison did as he was told. "Okay, now take a couple of deep breaths and let them out slowly. Try to clear your mind."

"I told you..."

"All right! Just think of it as concentration, only more relaxed." That seemed to work. He watched the rise and fall of the broad chest - that thin T-shirt didn't hide much - and on the second long exhale, "now try to go completely limp. Keep breathing slowly, and picture a radio in your mind. An old-fashioned one with dials. I bet your old man had one like that when you were a kid, right?"

For some reason that didn't seem to be the kind of happy memory, he'd hoped to inspire. Ellison frowned, but nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"So find the volume dial. Think of how turning it down makes the sounds quieter. Think of how you can turn down your hearing in the same way. Make everything quieter."

A few seconds later Ellison's eyes flew open. "It works. Everything sounds normal." He actually smiled.

"Good." Blair crouched beside the bed. "Now there's no reason why you can't do the same for your other senses. We'll try sight next. Just find the dial and turn it down till everything feels normal."

It took ten minutes, and Jim Ellison was a changed man. He rose from the bed, and stretched with a grace that had been missing from his earlier movements. "Okay. We're done here. I'll call H and Rafe, and they can take you back to the university."

"Wait. Hang on just a minute." Blair grabbed Ellison's arm. "What about our deal? You said I could study you. Besides..."

"Look, I'm sorry, Chief." Ellison looked down at him and actually did seem sorry. "I'm on a tight schedule here. Whatever information you've got from helping me, that's it. And don't even think about using my name, all right?"

"Jim, this isn't over. You think learning one little trick is going to fix everything? You still need me, man."

"It'll do for now. I don't have time for any more." Ellison pulled his arm free with depressing ease. "I appreciate what you've done for me, but school is out, Professor."

* * *

His two abductors dropped him at the university, and were gone before Blair realised that his car was no longer where he parked it. "Oh, that's just  _great_. My car's been stolen, too. That's all I need."

He took a cab back to the warehouse where he lived, turned on the TV and thought about drowning his sorrows with a beer or four. Then a better idea occurred to him. Maybe Russ would be interested in coming over for an afternoon's fucking. He lunged for the phone, his spirits rising.

"Hey, Russ..."

"Blair? Oh my God, are you all right?" Blair winced at the almost hysterical shriek. Russ always had been a bit of a drama queen. "I've been worried  _sick_. Did the police find you? Are you hurt?"

"The police? Russ, what are you talking about?" Blair listened in numbed silence as Russ described the events of the last twenty four hours - Russ' call to the police after the abrupt termination of his call, the sighting of his car left abandoned at the university (and now in the police impound yard, probably in pieces), the discovery that the cell phone Blair had used to call him had not officially existed according to the phone company. "Oh fuck, Russ. I really wish you hadn't called the police. Now I'll have to think of something to tell them."

Russ sobered instantly. "What happened, Blair?"

"I can't really tell you. It's to do with my research, for the diss." Blair thought quickly. "I promised my subject I'd protect his anonymity. I can't tell the police about him." The prospect of an afternoon's lazy fucking had melted away like the proverbial spring snow. "I'd better call the police right now and get the search called off. I'll call you later, okay?"

* * *

Blair was repeating a highly edited account of his apparent kidnapping to a bored, middle-aged detective for the third time when he became aware of a large presence looming behind him. He faltered in his tale and the detective looked up from his notepad, eyes widening at the sight of whoever stood behind Blair. Blair turned in his seat.

"Mr Sandburg?" The sharply dressed African-American was even taller and broader than Ellison. "I'm Captain Simon Banks, Major Crime. I'd like to speak with you if Det Jansen doesn't mind."

"Oh, no, sir. Go right ahead" Jansen hurriedly gathered his paperwork together. "I think I've got everything I need. I'll get the report typed up and then all Mr Sandburg has to do is drop by the front desk and sign his statement."

Left without any chance of excusing himself, Blair looked up - a  _long_  way up - at Capt Banks. "Is there a problem? I mean, I'm sorry about wasting everyone's time, but it was an honest mistake. I dropped the cell phone and it broke. It wasn't Russ' fault he..."

Banks held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "There's no problem. At least... would you mind accompanying me to my office? I have a few questions that I'd rather ask in more private surroundings."

"Okay." That sounded ominous, and Blair swallowed nervously. "Sure. No problem."

Major Crime was two floors up. The two men were silent as they waited for the elevator, and during the brief ride. Blair followed Banks through the bullpen, which was almost deserted, and into his office.

"Hey, is that..." Blair lost interest in the carved African mask as Banks closed the door firmly. With all the blinds closed, they were completely cut off from the outside and that, combined with the large presence of the police captain was uncomfortably reminiscent of his 'abduction' two nights before.

"Yes, it is, Mr Sandburg. Please take a seat." A large hand indicated the two available chairs in front of his desk. Banks sank into his own chair with an audible sigh. "I suppose you're wondering why Major Crime would be interested in a fairly routine missing persons case."

In fact, that was something he'd been trying not to think about. "Well hey... it's kinda flattering..." his cheery smile faded in response to Banks' stern facade. "I guess it's something to do with that cell phone. Russ told me there was something weird about it, but I don't know anything. I just borrowed it."

"From whom, may I ask?"

Well, he hadn't really expected that to satisfy Banks, but it was all the other man was going to get. "I can't divulge my subject's identity, Captain. He made it a condition of our meeting that I would not reveal anything that would lead to his exposure. So unless you serve me with a subpoena, I'm afraid I can't help you."

Banks grunted. He opened his desk drawer and took out a cigar box. "Do you mind?"

"Actually, I do." Blair met his gaze levelly, refusing to be intimidated. "I'm not fond of second hand smoke."

"Huh." Banks rolled the cigar between his fingers, then lifted to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then he returned it to the box. "I don't know if you're aware that the most likely explanation for this little anomaly with the cell phone is that it's being used by terrorists, or drug dealers..."

Blair smiled vaguely.

"...or certain government agents." Banks gaze sharpened and Blair knew he must have given something away. "I see."

"I haven't said anything. And I won't. I gave my word."

Banks nodded. "This government agent wouldn't be a tall, military type with short dark hair, blue eyes and a grouchy temperament?"

"Captain, I can't answer that."

"You don't have to." Banks smiled ironically. "Tell Jim to at least  _try_  not to blow up any more buildings, will you?"

"Sorry." Blair shrugged. "Whoever it was that I met, I won't be seeing him again." Blow up buildings? What the fuck had he gotten himself into? As Banks ushered him out of the office, he reflected that it was just as well Ellison didn't want him around.

* * *

The police had obligingly agreed to release his car, but that, of course, involved more paperwork. By the time Blair had gotten it out of the impound yard and driven home it was getting late, so he wasn't too happy to see an all too familiar black sedan parked in front of his warehouse.

Joel Taggart emerged from the car as Blair parked beside it. "Blair, we need your help. Jim needs your help. It's like he's blacked out, only he's still standing."

"He's zoned? I  _warned_  him..." At Joel's puzzled look Blair fell silent. "He's not moving, doesn't respond to attempts to bring him out of it? Didn't he even tell you about it?"

"No." Joel's lips pressed together in an angry line. "He was briefing us for our mission, and then he just stopped and we haven't been able to rouse him."

"How long?" Blair caught Joel's arm. "How long has it been, Joel?"

"A couple of hours." The big man looked worried as well he might. Two hours was a long time for a zone, according to the little information Blair had.

"All right. I'll come with you." He went around to the passenger side and opened the door. "We should hurry, okay?"

* * *

The building Joel took him to was a different one than before. Blair was led to a room that had obviously been hastily cleared of anything that might indicate what the 'briefing' had been about. All that remained was an oval table and a few chairs, and Jim Ellison standing in front of the only window.

"What exactly was he doing when this happened?" Blair stood in front of the agent, looking for any signs of awareness and finding none. Even his facial muscles seemed slack, as though he was asleep. Standing up. "I need to identify which sense he zoned on."

"Uh..." Joel looked embarrassed. "I wasn't paying att... I mean, I was reading a briefing paper, not looking at Jim."

"Okay. Did H or Rafe see what happened?" Blair shook his head. "I really should have done some work with you guys so you'd be able to handle situations like this."

Joel shrugged. "I don't think Jim likes the idea of us knowing that kind of personal stuff about him."

"Now isn't  _that_  a surprise." Blair rolled his eyes. He laid a tentative hand on the Sentinel's arm. "Hey, Jim. It's time to come back now."

Not surprisingly, there was no response. "Can you go ask Rafe and H about it? And anyone else who was here. I'll just try..." he went up on his toes to peer into Ellison's face. Nothing. He knew what it was, had even warned Ellison about it, but he had no real idea what to actually do about a zone out. There was a serious lack of detailed data in the few accounts he'd found of Sentinel abilities.

"Okay..." Blair could be pretty sure that touch wasn't the sense that had set this off. Most likely it would be sight or hearing, so... "okay, Jim, let's just try this." He took hold of Jim's right hand, hanging limply at the big man's side, and began to chafe it gently, watching Jim's face for any sign of a response. "Can you feel this? Can you feel my body heat? I need you to focus, Jim. Focus on my voice and on my touch, okay?" He crowded up close to Jim's side, getting well within his personal space. "Can you smell me? It's been a bitch of a day. I'll bet I smell pretty rank to a Sentinel."

Ellison's nostrils flared slightly, and Blair felt a brief surge of elation. It was working! Jim could hear him, even if he wasn't able to respond directly. He reached up with his other hand and gently pulled Ellison's head down until his cheek was resting against Blair's temple. "Take a deep breath, Jim. Let the smell guide you back." He felt Jim's chest rise sharply as the Sentinel breathed in, then staggered as Ellison jerked himself away. Luckily the table was close enough for him to steady himself, otherwise he could well have gone sprawling.

"What the  _fuck_  do you think you're doing?" Ellison's eyes changed from wrathful to confused. "What are you doing here, Sandburg? I sent you away hours ago." His eyes turned to the window, taking in the pitch darkness outside. "What's going on here?"

"You zoned, man. I warned you about that." Blair scowled. A thank you would have been nice, but that was obviously too much to hope for. "Joel asked me to help out, but I guess I'm done now." He reached the door in a couple of steps, and hesitated. Ellison would undoubtedly zone again, and there was nobody else who would be able to help him. Stifling a deep sigh, he turned back to face the other man. "We need to do some more work. Either Joel, H, or Rafe need to know how to bring you out of a zone, otherwise you  _will_  get yourself killed."

Ellison looked furious, but he didn't argue. "You can teach them how to do it?"

"Sure." Blair smiled confidently. "The zone occurs when you concentrate too hard on one of your senses. All they need to do is stimulate your other senses to bring you back. Of course, it would help if they had an idea which sense you were zoning on..." he looked at Ellison's grim face speculatively. "I don't suppose you remember what happened to make you zone?"

"Actually, yeah. I do." Ellison's voice softened a little, remembering. "I was going over the plans for our mission with Joel and Rafe and Henri and I looked out the window. I could see a seagull flying out over the harbour. It was a long way out, but I could see it as clearly as if it was perched on the ledge here. I could see individual feathers. The way they caught the sunlight. It was..." he shook his head suddenly, breaking the spell.

Blair swallowed hard, wishing that he could experience what Ellison had, if only for a moment. Wishing he could bring back that gentle, awed expression to Ellison's face, and the quiet note of wonder to his voice.

* * *

This time, Ellison agreed to let Blair arrange his own disappearance, since neither of them wanted a repeat of the last time. Russ had been the most difficult to persuade, but had reluctantly assented to keep quiet about Blair's absence. Having accomplished that, Blair called a few other grad students who owed him favours and talked them into taking his classes for the next few days. Fortunately, there weren't any exams or assignments due; otherwise he would have had a lot more difficulty in offloading his responsibilities. Now he had only one: to teach Jim Ellison how to control his Sentinel senses.

It should have been easy. All he needed to do was train Joel, Henri or Rafe to recognise the signs of a zone out and show them how to bring Ellison out of it. There was just one problem: Ellison wouldn't respond to any of them, only to Blair. To make things worse, now that Jim could dial his senses up and down, it was depressingly easy to induce a zone. All he had to do was dial up, then allow his concentration to slip for a moment and he was  _gone_.

After the fifth zone in two hours, Ellison retired to bed with a raging headache and a couple of aspirin, while Blair was left miserably contemplating the prospect throwing of himself out the window. Anything would be better than this. He sighed, took a couple of aspirin too and allowed Rafe to escort him to his hastily set up bedroom. It was even more uncomfortable than the previous one.

He woke next morning more determined than ever to find a solution. Maybe he'd been approaching it from the wrong angle. If Jim could be trained to recognise an incipient zone out, then perhaps he could learn to pull back from it.

This was an approach that obviously appealed to Ellison, and with a gratifying degree of cooperation on his part, they were able to achieve a major improvement. And then they got stuck again. It didn't help that by this time both of them were tired and frustrated, or that, as Jim's irritation increased, his level of control slipped still further.

"Look, we need to stop for a while. Okay?" Blair leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes against the admittedly enthralling sight of Jim Ellison pacing back and forth for all the world like a caged jungle cat. "Take a break, go for a walk. Just do something to relax."

"Relax?" Ellison snarled like the cat Blair had mentally named him. "How the fuck am I supposed to relax? You're not helping me here."

Blair's eyes flew open. That was  _so_  unfair. "I can't do  _everything_. All I can do is offer ideas, man. If you can't... you need to concentrate. Let me..." he broke off with a yelp as Ellison grabbed his shirtfront and lifted him high enough that their eyes were level.

"How the  _fuck_  am I supposed to concentrate when you... you're..." shaking his head, Ellison let Blair drop and stalked away a couple of paces before returning. "You stink of sex, Sandburg. It's like trying to work in a whorehouse." His nostrils flared briefly and he took another step into Blair's personal space. "You reek of it."

Oh God... Blair's heart was slamming against the inside of his ribs, and the fear and shock was only making him hornier. The way he responded to Ellison was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. His dick might not care about personality, but generally, Blair was only attracted to people he actually liked; and he did  _not_  like Jim Ellison.

"Okay. I'll go take a shower and..." he tried to sidle away from Ellison, but a muscular arm shot out to bar the way. "Let me pass." His voice was shaking and about half an octave lower than normal.

"You really think a shower's going to help?" Ellison's eyes drifted closed and he inhaled slowly, scenting Blair the way an animal might. "I don't think so, Sandburg. I've got another idea."

"Yeah?" Blair's dick shot to attention. He and it both knew what was coming next. He tried to tell himself he didn't want it, but his body knew better. Swallowing to ease his suddenly dry throat, he managed to choke out, "what idea?"

"You've got an itch, you scratch it." Ellison's eyes opened, pinning him with an iron hard stare. "You follow me?"

Just about anywhere, you bastard. Blair dragged in a desperately needed breath and nodded jerkily. "Okay."

Ellison lowered his head until his temple brushed against Blair's. For a moment, it seemed like the other man was going to kiss him, and his heartbeat picked up until he thought he might actually die from anticipation. It didn't happen, and Blair didn't know whether to be relieved or sorry. Instead Ellison began to unbutton his outer shirt and then the one beneath it. His hand, large and warm and surprisingly gentle, thoroughly explored Blair's chest, while Ellison's breathing grew more and more laboured.

Blair risked a glance down and saw the blatant outline of Ellison's erection against the soft cotton of his sweatpants. Fuck! Talk about the material wet dreams were made of... he brushed his fingertips over the tip and Ellison groaned.

As obvious as it was that Ellison wanted this, Blair couldn't help remembering his antagonism when he'd discovered that Blair's date had been a man. This could be a very big mistake he was about to make; but nothing was going to stop him making it. He slid his hand inside the sweatpants, and through the gap in Ellison's shorts to touch the turgid flesh. It flinched at his touch and Ellison groaned again, thrusting instinctively into his hand.

Already, he looked near to climax, and Blair slid his hand down the scorching heat of his cock and squeezed the base. A shudder ran through the muscular body, but some of the urgency faded from Ellison's face. The clear blue eyes focused on his, then his hands grasped Blair's shoulders, pushing down.

There was no arguing with the determination in that face, and Blair didn't want to try. He sank to his knees, legs spread wide to give his own hard-on some relief, and tugged the sweatpants and shorts down Ellison's thighs. His cock was fiery red for almost half its length, and marble pale the rest. Blair could actually see the raised veins pulsing with the throb of the blood surging through them. He sighed in pleasure at the sight and saw Ellison shudder as the relatively cool breath washed over his cock.

His shoulders were released and Ellison leant one hand against the wall, leaning into him as Blair took the head of his cock between lips dry with nervousness. Then Ellison's other hand tangled in his hair, and the agent began to fuck his mouth with an unnerving intensity.

It was patently obvious that Ellison simply wanted to get his rocks off. He made no attempt to make it enjoyable for Blair, was probably not even aware of Blair's existence, except for the wet heat of his mouth. Strangely, that didn't make it any less arousing for Blair. The taste of Ellison's cock, his pre-cum, the feel of his cock against Blair's tongue; it was as though he'd never done this before in his life. He fumbled his jeans open and managed to drag out his own aching cock.

Fuck, it was incredible. His strokes rapidly became erratic and clumsy; he wasn't going to last long, but it was obvious that Ellison wouldn't either. Almost as he thought it, Ellison pulled back hurriedly, his breath catching on something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. He grabbed his cock with one hand and tugged fiercely - once, twice - then let out a moan as the milky strands of semen splattered across Blair's face and hair.

As the first scalding drops fell, Blair closed his eyes. It seemed to last an eternity, and Blair sped up the movement of his hand, desperate for release. Ellison's cum was still sliding in rivulets down his cheeks, but no more was landing, when his own climax hit him and Blair cried out in relief.

He sagged back against the wall, heart thumping, breath labouring and didn't open his eyes until a damp washcloth was dropped across his face. He swiped away the worst of the mess and opened his eyes. Ellison was looking down at him, his face a blank mask. "You think we can get on with it now?"

A dash of cold water on his overheated body couldn't have sobered Blair more effectively. With what dignity he could manage, he stuffed his still tender cock into his shorts and stood. "I'll just clean up a bit."

Ellison moved aside and Blair walked a little unsteadily into the bathroom. With the aid of a mirror and repeated rinsing of the washcloth, he dabbed off the semen stains from his clothing, then ducked his head under the faucet and let the water carry away the spunk that still clung to his hair.

He'd thought he'd wanted it, and he'd had no illusions about love or even liking between them, but this... Blair swallowed, trying to force down the sickness rising in his gut. He'd had more than a few loveless flings and one night stands for the sheer joy of the sex. What they'd just done was the most incredible, the most intense sex he'd ever experienced. So why did he feel so used?

* * *

Incredibly, it seemed like the sex  _had_  helped. A couple more hours of exercises improved Ellison's control until he could detect an incipient zone most of the time. Of course, that wasn't good enough for Ellison, and Blair could understand why. It was obvious that a government agency that rejoiced in the name of Covert Response Unit was going to be involved in some pretty dangerous activities. It would take only one zone out at an inopportune time, and Ellison would be dead. In spite of the way Ellison had treated him, he was still the only living Sentinel Blair had ever found and, Blair very much wanted to keep him alive.

Perhaps with time, Ellison would gain complete control over his senses, but until then they left him vulnerable in ways he'd never been before. One thing that became very clear to Blair was that Ellison didn't like being vulnerable in  _any_  way. Nor did he like being out of control; it made him tense and angry, and he turned that anger onto Blair.

After another induced zone out, which Ellison hadn't been able to stop, to his obvious annoyance, Blair called a halt. "We've come a long way, man. Why don't you take a break, get some rest and we'll start again in an hour. This time, we'll bring the others back in and see if you respond any better."

Ellison shrugged noncommittally. "I don't think it's going to work."

"It takes  _time_ , Jim. Sentinels from primitive tribes probably trained for  _years_. You've been at it, what... three and a half days?" If he could, Blair would have walked out. God, he needed some fresh air and space... but he wasn't going to get it.

"I don't  _have_  years. I don't even have weeks." Ellison turned away, running a hand over his short-cropped hair. "If I can't get a handle on this by the end of the week at the latest..." he glanced back over his shoulder and his grim expression said everything that needed saying.

"Can't H, or Joel or Rafe do whatever it is that needs doing?"

Ellison shook his head impatiently. "Henri and Rafe don't have my training or experience. Joel's... he's an expert in his field, but it's not primarily what we need for this mission. If I can't do it... we'll have to call in another team." His tone made it clear how little that option appealed to him.

"Then _call_ in another team." Blair was unimpressed, "it's better than being dead."

Ellison's response was a level, unyielding stare.

* * *

By mid-afternoon of the next day, even Blair had to admit defeat. Once or twice, Rafe had managed to pull Ellison out of a zone, but only after several minutes. Blair could bring him out of it in seconds.

"I just don't get it. They're doing exactly what I do." Blair paced in ever decreasing circles, his hands flying about in frustrated gestures. "I've watched them, they've watched me. If I'm doing something different, I sure don't know what it is."

Ellison was sitting in a chair, head leaning on his clenched fists. "All I know is, if I have to put myself in one more zone, my head is going to explode." He looked up at Blair and rubbed his forehead wearily. "We have to find another way."

"I don't  _know_  any other way, Jim." Losing his energy suddenly, Blair dropped into another chair. "I'm all out of ideas." He glanced at the Sentinel and caught a coldly assessing stare. "What?"

"You could come with me. Just for this one mission." Ellison's face was completely serious.

" _Me_?" Blair squeaked. "You want  _me_  to be some kind of secret agent?" He didn't know whether to laugh or run screaming from the room.

"All you'd have to do is stick close to me, and do exactly what I tell you. And help me with my senses."

"And this is the mission that you don't think Rafe and Henri can handle on their own?" Blair shook his head. "I'm a lover, not a fighter, man."

Ellison leaned forward, eyes intent. "This is important. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people could die. If you can help me..."

"No. I mean it, Jim. This spy stuff is so not my scene." Blair stood, but there was nowhere he could go that Ellison wouldn't be able to follow. "Come on. This sort of thing takes years of training, and I've only got a few days? It's insane."

"They're terrorists. And not some tin pot, nickel and dime operation, either." Ellison spoke softly, more intent on the words than Blair's reaction. "Have you ever heard of the Sunrise Patriots?"

"Garret Kincaid's bunch? Didn't they hijack the Police Station a few years back?" They'd taken a whole bunch of cops hostage, but then some kind of deal had been negotiated, and Kincaid had managed to slip away with a core group of his deputies. He'd been lying low ever since. Kincaid, by all reports, was a dangerous psychopath with an ego to match. "You want  _me_  to go against Kincaid? No way, man."

"Sandburg, you wouldn't be going up against anyone. The idea is to get in, get what we need and get out," one eyebrow rose a little, "preferably without anybody seeing us."

It sounded easy enough. So easy that Blair didn't believe it for a moment. "And what would that be, Jim?"

"The word is, they've obtained some kind of bio-toxin from a rogue ex-CIA agent. Knowing Kincaid, he'll use it on as many people, as publicly as possible. Probably at a televised event, and not just local TV, either. Lately we've been getting intell that he's looking to make a nation-wide impact."

"And it's going to be soon?" Blair thought hard. "There's the Jag's game on Friday, it's an NBA quarter final, so that'll show nationally. Can't you grab him then?"

Ellison shook his head. "There's also two other events this weekend that would fit his profile. We haven't got the resources to cover them all; not without involving large numbers of police, and we can't risk that. There were inside men involved when Kincaid took the police station. We think we got all of them, but there could still be others."

"So what are you going to do?" Blair swallowed nervously. This was getting way too intense for his liking, but he wasn't sure he could just stand back and let thousands of people die without lifting a finger to help.

"One of Kincaid's men recently made contact with Brackett - the rogue agent. We tracked him to an agricultural chemicals manufacturing plant down near the docks. It's the perfect cover for any kind of chemical weapon, and one of the few places in Cascade where it could be safely stored." Obviously sensing that Blair was wavering, Ellison provided the facts without embellishment, stating his case, and no more than that. "The plan is to go in early Friday morning, around four. They won't chance moving the toxin any sooner than they need to; it's too dangerous to be wandering around Cascade with that kind of stuff.

"Once we have the toxin secured, the rest of my team and some police we know we can trust will round up all the Patriots we've identified." Ellison sighed. "If we're lucky, we'll get Kincaid, too; but I'm not counting on it. He's a slippery bastard."

"All right." Blair found himself nodding, "all right, as long as there's not going to be any shooting or heavy stuff, I'll do it."

Surprisingly, Ellison hesitated. "I can't guarantee anything, Chief. There's always the chance that something unexpected will happen. You'll need to be prepared. Rafe can give you some lessons in how to handle a gun. There's a private range he can take you to for a few practice rounds."

"Oh, no. No way, man. I'm not touching a gun." Blair backed away, raising his hands. "I'll just hide behind you. Okay?"

A faint, warm smile touched Ellison's lips, and Blair shivered a little. Too much of that and he'd be lost, without a hope of survival. The smile was mercifully brief. "It's a deal. Now..." Ellison rose from his seat. "You're going to have to know the floor plan of this place as well as you know your own home."

* * *

The quiet knock on his door startled Blair out of a restless doze. With a grunt, he brought his arm up to check his watch. It was nearly midnight; too late for Joel or H to come calling, and while Rafe had been friendly enough, he'd never tried to engage in any conversation that wasn't related to the mission. That only left one likely person, and Blair could feel his pulse quicken.

Ellison was frowning when Blair opened the door. He was beginning to recognise different kinds of frowns. There was the one that made deep lines between Ellison's eyebrows - that meant he was getting a headache, or trying to dial down a sensory spike. There was the barely visible tension around his eyes that indicated worry. The slight wrinkling of his forehead meant concentration. This was none of the above. Blair observed the twitching muscle in Ellison's jaw and the fine lines radiating out from the corners of his eyes. Added to the palpable air of restless tension, it could only mean one thing.

"Come in, Jim." He stood back to let the larger man pass. "What's up?"

"Nothing!" Ellison snapped, then pulled himself together. "Nothing's up. I just didn't feel like sleeping. I thought maybe..."

A fine tremor passed through his body, and Blair could feel his gut twist. After last time, he'd sworn he'd never let Ellison use him like that again, but now, faced with the intensity of the man, and the blatant need in his eyes, his resolution was unravelling like the sweaters his mother had tried to knit when he was a kid. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away, his hands going to the buttons on his shirt. "Get undressed, and get on the bed."

He heard the soft rustle of clothing being removed, and his hands trembled harder. How could he want this again? Humiliation  _so_  wasn't his scene, and yet... he turned, still only half undressed, as the bed creaked. Ellison was sitting on the edge, naked as a jaybird. And, oh fuck, he was just as beautiful as Blair had imagined.

Taking a deep breath, Blair shrugged off his shirt and unzipped his jeans. In two short steps he left them in a puddle on the floor behind him. He stood in front of Ellison, wearing only his shorts, which did nothing to hide his arousal. "Take them off."

Ellison didn't look very impressed, but he did as Blair instructed, sliding the shorts down over his hips. His face took on the slightly distracted expression he always got when using his senses, and he ran his fingers lightly over the short coarse hairs on Blair's belly. Blair gasped softly, his cock swelling even further, and turned his head away a little, unable to bear the sight of the Sentinel touching him.

There was an unopened box of condoms and a small tube of lubricant on the chair that doubled as a nightstand. "Jim, where did you get those?" He hadn't left the building at all, unless he'd snuck out late last night after they'd finished the tests and exercises.

"I told Joel to get them today, when he went out for the things you wanted from your apartment." Ellison's voice was distracted, his mind clearly not on the conversation. "He won't say anything."

"But he'll  _know_." Blair pulled away. "God, I can't  _believe_  you did that."

"What does it matter?" Ellison followed, laid a firm hand on Blair's shoulder. "I don't give a fuck what he thinks. It's none of his business."

Blair slapped his hand away. "What about what I think? Do you give a fuck about that?"

Ellison declined to answer. He wrapped his long fingers around Blair's cock and squeezed until pleasure threatened to give way to pain. It wasn't entirely unpleasant; the hint of danger only added spice to the moment. "Do you want this or don't you? That's all I give a fuck about right now."

"Yeah. I want it." He could barely speak above a whisper, ashamed and frightened as he was by his body's response to this man.

"Then get on the bed. Face down."

He thought about objecting. After their first encounter, he was in no doubt that Ellison intended to take what he wanted with little concern for Blair's enjoyment. But, hell, he didn't need Ellison to make it good for him. Already he was aching with need, his ass throbbing dully in anticipation. He lay face down on the bed, his legs spread.

Ellison's hand came down on the back of his neck; not hard, just asserting his dominance. Shamefully, Blair moaned, and his cock, trapped against the mattress, twitched in response. Then the restraining hand moved in a possessive sweep from his shoulder down his side to rest lightly on his left hip.

Tremors ran though his body and he squirmed a little, pushing his cock into the slight roughness of the cheap blanket. Above him, a breathy groan indicated that Ellison wanted this as badly as he did. He felt the careful probing of the long fingers he'd been covertly watching for days. Ellison was neither rough nor gentle, just matter of fact. Blair heard him move to the chair and smelt the slightly sweet scent of the lube. Strawberry. He grinned at the thought of Joel selecting it from one of the organic shops down by the old markets. At least...

"You did tell Joel to buy organic, low allergy stuff, didn't you?"

"Yes." Impatiently. The slick fingers brushed across his asshole and Blair moaned. Two fingers slid inside him "This okay?"

"'s fine." Blair mumbled into the pillow. His hips rocked back a bit, then forward into the blanket. The tip of his cock was just a little sore now, somehow increasing his pleasure. "More. Please."

Ellison grunted. His fingers pressed deeper inside Blair then withdrew. The mattress lurched a little, and Blair felt Ellison settle between his thighs. Kneeling, he thought, and glanced back over his shoulder, watching as Ellison rolled a condom over his cock. In a moment, that cock would be inside him, Ellison's weight pinning him to the bed. He shuddered, fighting the urge to grab his own cock and jerk himself off to the images in his mind.

The probing fingers were back, just as insistent, but not patient now; not patient at all. Blair felt the heat of Ellison's body leaning over his; felt the bed tilt again as he balanced his weight on one hand while fumbling between their bodies with the other. Just when Blair thought he couldn't possibly wait any longer, the blunt tip of Ellison's cock pressed against his ass.

"Oh, yeah... oh, God..." Random jolts of hot and cold pleasure rippled though him, and Blair groaned as Ellison moved deeper inside him. "Fuck, give me more. Harder."

He could feel Ellison's body, only a fraction of an inch above his own, but not touching anywhere except for the occasional brush of skin against his ass. Ellison was making soft, effortful grunts with each thrust, and his breath scorched the back of Blair's neck, then he bit down, firmly but not too hard, on Blair's shoulder. God, the man was the textbook example of an alpha male.

Something in Blair that he'd never known existed responded to it with shameless glee. His back arched and he thrust back as best he could in this awkward position. Ellison groaned and pulled back, dragging Blair with him. He scrambled to get his knees under him and was rewarded with an even deeper thrust. He was trembling helplessly, too close to losing it even to touch himself. He buried his head in his arms and lifted his ass like a bitch in heat.

Ellison muttered something that was certainly an obscenity and began pounding into him. The bed juddered and creaked with their movements; surely neither of them could last much longer. Then a hand slipped under Blair's belly and roughly palmed his cock. He screamed, careless of who might hear, as the climax tore through his body. Vaguely, he could hear Ellison's wordless cry, felt much more clearly the way the powerful thrusts degenerated into uncontrolled lunges.

They both collapsed into a messy tangle, but almost immediately, Ellison had recovered enough to withdraw his cock. Blair bit back a moan at the loss, and lay still, listening as Ellison moved around, first disposing of the condom, and then quietly dressing.

He hadn't been under any illusions, he told himself. He had no right to complain, even in his own mind; he just wished that it could have meant something more. But Ellison would never allow that. Maybe he didn't allow anyone to get close to him. Or maybe it was just Blair. After a few deep breaths, Blair rolled onto his side, watching as Ellison buttoned his shirt.

Intent blue eyes studied him with a deceptive air of unconcern. Blair had learned to see through that at least. Ellison wanted him, and wanted more than just tonight. He met the gaze with a studied indifference that was probably no more convincing. "So... now that you know where I live..."

Ellison nodded minutely. "Tomorrow night?"

Blair's heart began to beat faster. "I'll be here."

* * *

"Again, Sandburg." Ellison turned from the window, where he'd been staring out over the city as though he could somehow find Kincaid.

"Right." He could do it. Ellison had gone over the plan in minute detail, and Blair hadn't spent the last ten years of his life at university without learning how to retain information. He would have got it the first time if he hadn't been so freaked by the whole idea of breaking into a terrorist stronghold. "We go in from the roof. You'll disarm the alarm system, right?"

"No. That would be noticed almost immediately." Ellison shrugged. "We have the locations of the surveillance cameras, and we can get most of the way without any risk of being picked up. Also," he smiled rather ferally, "there'll be a diversion out the front. The security guards should be busy watching the sideshow."

"Okay." Blair regarded him doubtfully, but if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Ellison knew his job. "So, coming in from the roof... the elevators are to the left, about twenty yards, and the stairs run down either side. We go down the left stairwell. Why the left? The right side's closer."

"They cross behind the elevator shaft. The left stair on the third floor comes out on the right on the second floor." Ellison leaned over the floor plan on the table. "There's cameras here, and here. And a guard usually patrols this corridor. More chance of being seen, so the less distance we have to travel the safer we are."

"Gotcha." It was kinda fun, in a totally scary way. "The lab is down this hallway - second right off the main one, third door on the left. It's got a key coded lock. We'll each have a swipe card. The code is 47835."

A hint of approval appeared in Ellison's eyes. To his own annoyance, Blair felt a warm glow of pleasure in his gut. "Good. Go on."

"There are two locked cabinets and a vault in the secure lab. The cabinets are glass fronted. Nice of them to make it easy for us."

"The toxin will probably be in the vault." Ellison frowned. "Don't get cocky, kid."

"Yeah, but at least we won't have to waste time breaking open the cabinets to check, right? So how do we know which is the right stuff? There's gotta be a lot of dangerous chemicals in a place like that." He grinned, as a thought occurred to him. "I mean, they're not going to label it 'Sunrise Patriots, Do Not Use', are they?"

"As a matter of fact, that isn't far wrong." Was that actual humour in Ellison's voice? "The canisters will be labelled with the name Global Agri-Chem Inc. There should be three of them. What's the combination of the vault?"

That was easy. "Left 26, that's my age. Right 32. Franklin Delanor Roosevelt. Left 12. The atomic weight of carbon." He ignored the rolling of Ellison's eyes. "Okay, assuming we've got the canisters, we go back to the main hallway, turn right, not back the way we came. Along the first hallway on the left, down the secondary stairwell to the basement. Out through the security door in the parking garage, and around the side of the building to the wire fence. About fifteen feet in from the corner, there'll be a gap cut in the fence. We go through that and... ta da! We're home free."

Blatantly unimpressed, Ellison nodded. "Don't forget that gap in the fence won't be easy to see. It'll be held closed with a couple of wire twists. Now, let's go over the whole thing again."

* * *

They had two more days to go over their plans, to work on Ellison's senses, and for Blair to become increasingly nervous. By Thursday afternoon he was jittery and restless, unable to concentrate on anything. Ellison, by contrast, was increasingly remote. Blair was almost tempted to try dragging him upstairs so he could fuck Blair's brains out. It would at least have had the advantage of tiring him out. If they were going in at four in the morning, then he probably ought to get some sleep.

He was about to suggest it when the door opened and Joel ushered in a familiar figure.

"Simon. It's good to see you." Ellison's voice was more welcoming than it ever had been when speaking to Blair.

He held his hand out, and the captain of the Major Crime division took it with a big grin on his face. "Good to see you too, Jim. Or at least it would be if I could be sure you weren't going to blow anything up this time."

Ellison shrugged, smiling. "Is it my fault Cascade's a magnet for terrorists and serial killers? I swear, it's the most dangerous city in America." He gestured towards Blair. "I understand you two have met."

"That's right." Simon Banks nodded cordially. "Hello, Sandburg."

"Uh, hi." Blair smiled nervously. "This is unexpected."

"Capt Banks is going to be providing a specially selected team to assist with the operation." Ellison pulled a chair out from the desk where they'd laid out the plans of the chemical plant. "If there's anyone we can be sure of, it's Simon. Right?"

"Absolutely." The bass rumble of Banks' voice was emphatic. "My son Darryl still has nightmares about what Kincaid did to him. And Major Crime took the brunt of his attack. I lost two good officers that day. It would have been a lot worse, if not for you." Seeing Blair's confusion, he explained. "Jim and I got into the building while Kincaid was negotiating with the Mayor's office. Unfortunately, Kincaid managed to escape by helicopter from the roof, but we took more than a few of his top men."

"And he hasn't forgiven either of us for it. You can be sure of that." Ellison spoke grimly. "That's probably why he's chosen to make this move in Cascade. He'll want to demonstrate that his setback was just a minor one; and punish us for beating him."

"He's a crazy son of a bitch all right." Banks turned his gaze on Blair. "So, is anybody going to explain to me how an anthropology student got mixed up in a covert op?"

Blair grinned, his excitement level rising at the though of telling someone, even if it was only a cop, about Jim Ellison's abilities. "Well..."

"I'm afraid that's classified." Ellison shot him a stern look. "He'll be going in with me. I'd appreciate it if you could circulate his picture amongst your team, in case either of us run into any trouble when we come out of the building."

"Sure." Banks took the photo of Blair that Ellison handed to him. It looked like a copy of the one on his student ID. "I'll be on the scene myself. I'll personally keep an eye out for you both. So, how long after your little excursion will we be rounding up the suspects?"

"I've got the warrants ready. Joel and my other two men will lead a team each and we'd appreciate your backup." From a slim briefcase, Ellison extracted a sheaf of official looking papers and a map. "Their safe houses are located here, here... and here. It'll be a coordinated swoop, no chance of letting any of them warn the others. Now..."

Blair watched the pair from the other side of the room, envying their calm competence and the ease that they obviously shared in each other's company. If only it could be more like that between him and Jim... but that seemed like a hopelessly unattainable dream.

* * *

The mission went well, for the first five or so minutes. Ellison had no problem opening the vault, and they were busily stowing the canisters in the little backpack they'd brought with them. Blair's heartbeat had almost slowed to normal when Ellison cursed under his breath and dropped to his knees.

"Don't let me zone." His eyes took on that slightly glazed look that he got when concentrating on one of his senses. Suddenly, he flinched and covered his ears.

"What's happening, Jim?" In spite of his best efforts, Blair could hear the sharpness of fear in his voice. "Dial it down now."

"I can't" The words were gasped out with an effort. "There's a silent alarm going off. It's like a damn dog whistle. I can't tune it out."

Blair grabbed his arm and hauled him bodily to his feet. "We'd better get out of here. Can you hear anyone near by?"

A shake of his head could have meant anything. Ellison stumbled towards the door, obviously needing to escape. Blair had no option but to follow. He caught up to the Sentinel at the end of the hallway. His eyes were watering with the pain of a sound only he, and the guard dogs baying in the distance, could hear.

"Jim, you have to filter out that alarm. You can do it; just like I taught you, remember?" Even without Sentinel senses, he could hear that the dogs were getting closer. Blair waited until the harsh lines on Ellison's face relaxed slightly. "Okay, now which way? Do we stick to the plan?"

"No. Back to the main stairwell." Ellison shoved the backpack into his arms and drew his gun. "We'll try to get to the roof."

They'd reached the stairwell and slipped inside when a dull thump shook the building. Immediately fire alarms began to shriek. Ellison doubled over for a moment, before forcing himself upright again. "Explosion. Back in the lab."

"What the fuck?" This was way past what Blair had signed on for. "We didn't... did we?"

"No." Ellison rasped the word out through clenched teeth. "My guess is that the Patriots want to get rid of any evidence, and cause as much distraction as possible. They won't want the regular guards finding us."

"Okay, so we'd better get outta here. Can we still get to the roof?"

"Negative. I can hear..." suddenly, Ellison shoved Blair towards the stairs leading down to the first floor. "Get moving."

He didn't need to be told twice, and a moment later even Blair could hear the clatter of feet on the stairs above. He bounded down the stairs with more speed than was probably wise, aware that Ellison was close behind. There was another dull thump as he reached the bottom, and the floor rippled beneath his feet.

"That was on this floor." Ellison's voice was harsh, and his forehead was furrowed in pain. "We'd better get out of here before the whole building goes up."

It took a moment of scrabbling in his pocket before Blair located his swipe card. He slid it through the mechanism too fast and Ellison cursed, then turned away, aiming his gun back up the stairs. A man appeared, his gun already raised, and Ellison fired. The gunshot was nearly deafening in the close confines of the stairwell.

Blair tried a second time, his hands shaking, but this time the door swung open at his touch, allowing a gust of harsh, chemical scented smoke to enter. He dived through the doorway, his hand going to cover his mouth and nose, as Ellison fired again into the stairwell. "Come  _on_ , man."

Ellison came after him, gun still in hand. He held out the backpack. "Take it. If anything happens to me, just run like hell."

There was no point in arguing. Blair took the backpack, cradling it against his chest. "Which way?"

"Out the front door." The corner of Ellison's mouth quirked upwards. "Hopefully, they won't expect that, and with all this fun going on, we should have backup arriving by now."

It wasn't far to the main entrance, only fifty or sixty feet, but the rapidly thickening smoke meant that Blair couldn't see their goal. He started to run, hugging the wall; Ellison was close behind him. They were both coughing and Blair was almost blinded by the smoke, and the tears that streamed down his face.

"I can't see the door! Can you see it?" He looked back over his shoulder and could barely see Ellison, who was close enough to touch.

A large hand came down on his shoulder, pushing him to the right a little. "Just keep going."

It couldn't have been very long, but the nightmarish journey seemed to last for hours. Blair heard two more explosions, this time further away, followed gunfire and shouting. Twice, Ellison fired his gun at someone he could only have located by sound. Blair doubted that even a Sentinel could have seen through the red tinged darkness of the smoke. If it hadn't been for Ellison, Blair wouldn't have made it out at all; by the time they reached the double glass doors, Ellison was almost carrying him.

The cold air hit his lungs like a douche of sulphuric acid, and he doubled over, coughing and choking. Ellison grabbed him around the waist and dragged him upright. "Don't stop now! The place is going to blow sky high any minute now."

Blair was aware only of the burning in his lungs, the rawness of his throat and the large, somehow comforting presence of Jim Ellison half carrying him away from the building. They'd only staggered a few more feet when a series of explosions deafened him. Ellison held him tighter, arms wrapping protectively around his head and shoulders; and then the shockwave hit them, tumbling them both to the ground. In spite of Ellison's care, Blair's head hit the ground hard. He felt Ellison flinch as something struck them, and then there was only blissful oblivion.

* * *

His head hurt. His body ached - all of it. It hurt to breathe; hell, it hurt to  _think_. Blair swallowed and, yep, that hurt too. He inched his eyelids up cautiously and felt his eyes fill with tears at the brightness of the light. Was this what it was like for Jim when he had a sensory spike? If so, Blair thought maybe he could forgive the Sentinel for being such a grouch sometimes.

So, where was Jim? Blair's memories of escaping from the warehouse were patchy at best. He forced his eyes open a little further and saw a blurred figure sitting beside what he now realised was a hospital bed. His first attempt at speech came out as a weak croak and he swallowed and tried again. "Jim?"

But already, he could see that it wasn't Jim. Banks' face swam into focus almost reluctantly. He looked terrible; tired and with a greyish tinge to his dark skin. "He's not here." Banks patted Blair's arm awkwardly. "Try to rest. You got a fair bit of smoke in your lungs, kid."

Well, that explained most of his symptoms. The rest were probably due to the explosion, which was the last thing he could remember. "Where's Jim? Is he okay?"

The hesitation that followed told Blair all he needed to know. More than he wanted to know. "Simon..."

"I'm sorry, Blair." Banks' voice roughened. He was Jim's friend, as far as Jim had any friends at all. "He didn't make it."

"No..." Blair's whispered protest was automatic, but already he could feel the pain of it sinking into his chest. "No, he carried me out... Simon..." his voice broke on a sob.

"There was an explosion. He took the brunt of it, shielding you with his body." Banks rubbed his large hand up and down Blair's arm. "There was just too much blood loss by the time the paramedics got to him. He was DOA."

"No! Oh God, no..." he desperately didn't want to believe it. He  _wouldn't_  believe it. He closed his eyes, turning his head away. If he didn't have to look at the compassion in Banks' face, he could tell himself, for a little while at least, that it was all a terrible mistake.

* * *

They released him from hospital the next morning. Banks had brought him some clean clothes and then drove him to his warehouse. He caught Banks' dubious look at his unconventional place of residence. "Are you gonna be okay, kid? You could come home with me till you feel stronger."

"No. Thanks." It was a generous offer from someone who barely knew him. Blair roused himself to smile weakly at the older man. "I appreciate the offer, Simon, but I just want to get back to normal."

"Sure. I understand." Banks cleared his throat awkwardly. "Look, if you wanna talk... or anything... well, just give me a call, okay? You know my number."

"Yeah. Nine-one-one, isn't it?" His smile felt a little more genuine this time. He knew he couldn't stand much more of this, and opened the car door, swinging his feet out clumsily. His body still felt heavy and slightly numb, though whether that was due to his bruises, the smoke inhalation or grief, he really didn't know. Didn't  _want_  to know. "Thanks again, Simon. See you 'round, I guess."

He didn't hear Banks' response as he stumbled towards the steel door at the side of the warehouse. By the time he'd fumbled the door open, Banks' car was turning into the narrow access road that led to Main. Blair closed the door behind him with a hollow clang.

It was colder than usual inside. Dank. Dark. Why hadn't he ever noticed how awful this place was? As if to underscore the point a snap and a squeal from the dim recesses of the building signalled the untimely death of another rodent. Dead. Like Jim. Blair made it as far as the bed and curled up on it, wrapping his arms around his chest as if that could somehow ease the pain.

* * *

A week passed with agonising slowness. There was no funeral, which Blair supposed was appropriate for a man who'd spent most of his adult life living in such intense secrecy. Banks called a couple of times but, receiving no encouragement from Blair, didn't call a third time. Blair preferred it that way. He could hardly understand himself why Jim's death had hit him so hard; trying to explain it to anyone else was beyond impossible.

He'd had a Sentinel. A real, live Sentinel. The personification of his academic and, to be brutally honest, his sexual fantasies ever since he'd read Burton's monograph. Of course it was painful to lose that. So why was it that the worst pain always came when he thought, not of the Sentinel, but of Jim?

Jim Ellison was not a likeable man. Intense, yes. Compelling, undoubtedly. But likeable? No. He'd had Jim - more accurately, he'd been had  _by_  Jim - and lost him, and it hurt worse than anything except Naomi's death three years before. So he spent most of that week isolated in his warehouse, ignoring his teaching responsibilities, forgetting his dissertation as comprehensively as possible and watching the Cartoon Network late into the night. Anything to distract himself from thoughts of a tall, blue-eyed enigma who had, with no apparent effort to attract him, stolen his heart.

Six days of moping was about his limit, however, so the following Thursday Blair dragged himself out of bed at a relatively respectable hour and headed off to Rainier University.

There was a pile of envelopes that had been shoved under his door and the answer phone was full with two weeks worth of messages. Blair groaned self-pityingly, then set about clearing the messages and sorting the mail into some kind of order. That took most of the morning, but once done, Blair couldn't bring himself to actually deal with any of it. He sat in his chair and stared glumly at the results of his labour.

One of the voice messages had been from the Dean, reminding Blair that he had two weeks left to come up with a suitable research subject for his thesis. Thinking about that pompous voice Blair laughed - or maybe sobbed - and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. Dammit, he'd  _had_  the perfect research subject and had lost him. It wasn't as though he'd believed for very long that Jim would  _ever_  have allowed Blair to write about him, in spite of their deal, but with a real Sentinel to study, Blair would have given up his diss and the doctorate with little regret.

The chances of finding another Sentinel were vanishingly small, and Blair couldn't even work up the will to try. That left his fallback option, a study of closed societies - specifically, the police. Banks might let him spend time with the detectives in Major Crime. He could do that. He  _could_. He didn't want to. Well, he had two weeks to make up his mind.

Screw it.

Fuck it all to hell.

* * *

The university was too painful a reminder of what he'd lost. Blair left at mid-day without having achieved very much at all. The warehouse was better, but he'd already spent six days staring at the inside of those bleak walls. Eventually, Blair couldn't stand it any longer. He turned off the television and walked out.

It was dark outside. He started walking, choosing a direction at random and paying no attention to where his wanderings led him. At some point it started raining, but by then Blair had no idea where he was - until he saw a familiar building. Shit! He was just two blocks away from the place where Jim had died. He stood for a long time, unwilling to go any closer but unable to walk away.

He should go there. Vague thoughts of paying his respects, of maybe finding closure, drifted through his mind. He'd do it. Then he'd move on, get on with his life - something that had seemed impossible all this interminable week. Blair swallowed hard and forced his feet to do his bidding.

Of course there was no actual building, just a few girders leaning perilously skyward and a lot of blackened debris, all of it surrounded by the wire fence that had survived the destruction relatively intact. Blair scaled it without any difficulty and walked across the scored and pitted concrete to what he thought might be the place where he'd fallen.

Sure enough, there was a darker stain on the concrete only a few feet to the left of the spot he'd guessed at. Jim's blood. It had to be. He edged closer, sickened, but unable to stop himself, and knelt beside the stain. It felt normal to his fingertips, not sticky, as he'd expected. The blood must have soaked right in to the concrete.

Without warning, pain struck at him anew. Jim had died here. Jim had died saving Blair's life and Blair didn't know why Jim would ever have done a thing like that. Surely the life of a highly trained government agent had been much more important, far more valuable, than that of a grad student. Why had Jim given up his life to save Blair's miserable skin? Why did it hurt so much to finally accept that it had happened? Blair moaned softly, doubling over until his forehead rested against that mark of Jim's mortality. Oh God, it hurt so  _much_!

How long he stayed like that, Blair would never know. He only slowly became aware that he was not alone when a pair of black shoes appeared at the edge of his admittedly blurred vision.

"Blair, this isn't going to do you any good." Banks' nasal voice was gentler than Blair had ever heard it. "Come on, let me take you home."

He had no will to resist when Banks hauled him to his feet with one large hand under his left arm, but his legs, half numbed, couldn't support his weight. With a longsuffering sigh, Banks wrapped an arm around his waist and steered Blair towards the now open gate and a waiting car. The heat inside made Blair shiver in reaction and tears flooded his eyes.

"Why did he do it, Simon? He didn't have to do it." Blair swiped at his traitorous eyes savagely, but it did no good. The tears refused to stop, blinding him, taking away what little strength he had. "He could have... left me... but he didn't. Why didn't he, Simon? My life was worth nothing compared to his and he should have just left me but he didn't and now he's dead and I just don't  _understand_... make me understand, Simon."

"Kid..." Banks pulled him closer, offering what comfort could be found in a rough hug. " _He_  thought your life was worth saving."

"Oh God. Simon, I'm sorry." Blair got control of himself at last and pulled away. "You were his friend, and here I'm carrying on like I had some  _right_..."

"Cut it  _out_ , Sandburg." Banks growled the words at him, then sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd take it so hard."

"Neither did I." Blair had to fight back a semi-hysterical laugh. A moment later he had no desire to laugh at all. "What is  _wrong_  with me?"

Banks just grunted. "I have to make a call. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

"I promise." Blair held up his hands in a placatory gesture. He had no desire to go outside in the cold air, or to see the remains of the warehouse again. He watched as Banks talked into his cell phone, pacing back and forth and gesturing with his unlit cigar.

Whatever the call was about, it looked like Banks was having to do some pretty hard talking. After several minutes he returned to the car and started it up. "I'm taking you to see someone. This is  _strictly_  unofficial, you understand?"

"Sure. Who is it?" In fact, Blair didn't honestly care very much.

Banks pulled the car away from the curb, not so much as glancing in Blair's direction. "You'll see. It isn't very far."

* * *

The last place Blair expected Banks to take him was a four star hotel. He'd followed the taller man through the lobby and into the elevator before it occurred to him to ask even a single question. The presence of three other people in the elevator kept him silent. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in one of the lobby's large mirrors and knew his face was smeared with grubby tear tracks and his eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. God only knew what everybody was thinking of him.

On the eighteenth floor Banks exited the elevator and Blair followed him meekly down the hallway to a door at the far end. Banks' quiet knock was answered immediately by a nondescript man wearing a nondescript suit that screamed 'federal agent' to Blair's newly educated eye. What the hell was going on?

The two men had a brief exchange, then the other man nodded to Blair and walked away in the direction of the elevator. Banks jerked his head and went through the doorway. Blair followed.

At first glance the room appeared to be empty, then Blair noticed the man sitting in an armchair by the window. His heart began to pound, the way it had when he'd suffered from panic attacks as a kid, because it wasn't possible... it couldn't be...

"Congratulations, Simon. I've never seen him speechless before." Jim rose from the chair rather stiffly, and Blair realised belatedly that his arm was in a sling and there were the faded remains of some pretty serious bruising on his face. "Aren't you pleased to see me, Chief? Simon seemed to think you were upset by my supposed death."

Suddenly it was just too much to take in. Blair walked forward almost on autopilot until he was standing directly in front of Jim, staring up into his face. The bruising was more obvious now, and the small, scabbed abrasions. His skin had a crepe-like texture common among people who had been ill and there were shadows under his eyes. He looked - good God, he looked nervous.

Before he could chicken out, Blair leaned forward, lifting his arms to wrap around Jim's neck. Jim hesitated for just a split second, then lowered his head to kiss Blair. It was completely unlike any kiss he'd ever imagined having from Jim - sweet and tender and far too brief. When it ended Blair closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Jim's throat, fighting for composure.

"Simon." Jim's voice was unsteady.

"I'll be back in the morning. Okay, Blair?"

He roused himself with difficulty and turned his head to see Banks standing by the door, looking very uncomfortable. "Okay. Thanks, Simon."

Banks nodded abruptly and went out, closing the door behind him. Forgetting him immediately, Blair looked back into Jim's face, wondering what the hell was happening behind the apparently calm facade. "Jim? You wanna tell me what's been going on? They told me you were  _dead_ , man."

"I know." Jim's gaze never wavered. "I told them to. I thought it would be better that way."

"Better for who?" Icy anger flooded through his veins and Blair embraced it. It felt a lot better than the abject misery of the last week. "Jesus, why do I even bother to ask?"

"Better for you." Jim's eyes were steady on his. Not a hint of evasion showed in them. "I didn't give you any reason to want to see me again, and I thought..."

"You were wrong." Blair leaned in again, only then realising that Jim had never let go of him, and that he had not tried to move away. "God, you were  _so_  wrong."

"I'm sorry." Lips brushed across his temple and the ice in his veins turned suddenly to fire. "Blair, I'm so sorry."

He choked back a sob. "Then you'd better make it up to me."

Abruptly, he was released. "Before we do anything you may end up regretting, I have to tell you something."

"Yeah?"

"Tonight is all I can give you." Jim's face was an impassive mask. "There's no future for us. None at all, do you understand?"

"What is this? You felt like another fuck, so you let Simon bring me over?" Blair didn't miss the minute flinch, or the flicker of hurt that crossed Jim's face. It quelled his anger immediately. But Jim had said... "You said  _I_  might regret it. Not  _we_."

"I won't." Jim's voice was calm, with no hint of doubt. "But I've already taken enough from you. I  _had_  to keep a distance... I couldn't let myself feel any weakness, any need... not while we were working the case. I won't do that tonight. But  _you_  have to want this."

After all he had been through with Jim this shouldn't be so easy. But it was. "I do want it, Jim. Please."

Just like that, the mask was gone. Jim drew him back against his chest until Blair could feel the rapid beating of his heart. He turned his face up for Jim's kiss, and was swept away by a torrent of need and desire and... oh, God... and love. He wasn't aware of Jim edging him towards the bed, or that the sling had been cast aside. Not until his hands had dealt with the buttons on Jim's shirt and he was sliding the thin cloth off those wide shoulders.

Jim's chest was a patchwork of faded bruises and healing scratches, but the skin was rough under Blair's hands, warning that his back had fared worse. Wordlessly he drew back and turned Jim around. The worst of it, Blair assumed, was hidden under the dressings on Jim's shoulder and lower back. For a sickening moment, Blair remembered that dark patch on the ground outside the warehouse. Banks may have exaggerated, but it was clear that Jim had been hurt quite badly and had probably lost a lot of blood. He kissed the soft skin, between the shoulder blades, and rested his cheek there for a moment.

"You know, nice as that feels, I'd rather be looking at you, Chief." Amusement mingled with desire in Jim's voice.

"Hang on a minute." Blair stepped back, his hands swiftly stripping off his sweater and jeans. He almost fell over trying to get rid of his sneakers and gasped out a hurried 'don't look' before dropping his boxers in a crumpled heap. "Okay."

Jim turned slowly, smiling. Then he just stood, looking. The smile faded.

"What's wrong?" Blair walked forward. "It's not like you haven't seen me naked before."

"No." Jim took in a deep, shaking breath and held out his hands. When Blair took them, Jim pulled him forward until their bodies were touching again. "No, it's not like that at all."

"Come to bed, then." Some of Jim's strangeness was starting to infect Blair. He felt unaccountably nervous as he unfastened Jim's pants and eased them, and his boxers, down. "You gotta tell me if I hurt you, though."

Jim shook his head. "You won't. It's not as bad as it looks."

"Good." He pushed Jim backwards onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling him on all fours. "I hope you've been getting plenty of sleep recently."

A grin flickered across Jim's lips, but he didn't answer. Blair leaned down and kissed him deeply. There'd been moments between them, hints of something like this, but now for the first time, Blair could feel the tender, passionate response of Jim's kiss. He moaned softly, sending his breath into Jim's mouth, wanting something that was such an intimate part of him to become a part of his lover.

"Yes..." A soft hiss from Jim sent shivers through Blair's already over-heated body. Jim's eyes were closed and, as Blair watched, he brought a handful of Blair's hair to rub against his cheek. Then he turned his head and buried his nose in the dark curls, inhaling deeply.

"Oh,  _man_..." Lust exploded in his belly and Blair surrendered to it joyfully. "Sentinel sex is so incredibly  _hot_."

Jim's body tensed. "Actually, Chief, my senses are off line. This is just regular sex."

"What? Jesus, Jim, why didn't you tell me? What was it, the explosion?" Already his mind was sorting through various scenarios and solutions. "We've gotta do some tests. Try to find out how to get you back online and..."

"Hey. Can we just worry about that later, Professor?" Jim's voice matched his scowl. "Or have you suddenly lost interest?"

"No way, Jim. Does it feel like I'm not interested anymore?" He rubbed his cock eagerly against Jim's and the older man relaxed a little. Blair kissed him again, long and slow. "It was never just about you being a Sentinel, okay?"

"Good." Jim's hands slid down his back, so smooth, so light his touch was almost subliminal. The fine hairs on Blair's back stood to attention with the static charge Jim's hands generated, and his body tingled with anticipation. "I'd hate to think you only wanted me for my... abilities."

Blair chuckled softly and lowered his head to suck at a nipple. "Oh, I do.  _All_  your abilities, tough guy. Don't sell yourself short, here."

Without warning, he was pulled into an iron hard embrace, his body clutched tightly against Jim's, and rolled onto his back. Kisses, licks and even gentle bites were rained over his face, throat and chest as he resisted half-heartedly. Their legs tangled bringing their groins into close proximity. Oh,  _yeah_... Blair brought his thigh up to rub against Jim's balls.

"Dammit, Sandburg, ease off." Jim's hand on his hip pushed him away slightly. "Unless you  _want_  this to be over in the next couple of minutes."

Actually, he wanted it to last all night, but Jim had to be in pain still, and probably on some kind of meds, so... He firmly quashed speculation that the meds might be the cause of Jim's senses shutting down. They could deal with that later. "Okay. Let's just take it slowly. Lie back."

Jim relaxed under his hands, groaning softly whenever Blair touched some particularly sensitive, or tender, spot. God, he was just beautiful - that long, muscular body, so smooth and hard, with legs to die for. And his cock... Blair swooped, taking it into his mouth with one swift movement.

Since he'd started working with his first real, live Sentinel, Blair had become more aware of his own senses. Whether it was psychological, or whether he really was experiencing more sensory awareness, Blair didn't care at this point; it felt incredible...  _Jim_  felt incredible, tasted like nirvana, and there was something about that voice that resonated through his whole body.

"Blair! God..." Jim's voice was ragged, even though Blair was deliberately holding back, setting a pace that ought to give his lover pleasure enough while falling short of bringing him to orgasm.

Obviously, it wasn't working. He stared down into Jim's flushed face, panting himself. His first instinct was to go for gold. They had all night, after all. But Jim wasn't exactly in the best of condition right now. They might get one more chance to make love, if they were lucky. He dropped down beside Jim, his hand stroking one quivering thigh, and kissed the point of Jim's shoulder. "It's okay. What do you want to do?"

A long sigh was the only answer for a long time. Jim turned his head towards Blair, studying him with sober eyes. "I wasn't exactly prepared for this. Do you have anything?"

"Yeah, I think so." He usually had a couple of condoms in his wallet. "Hang on."

It only took a moment to roll off the bed, locate his wallet and return with two small wrappers. He dropped one onto the nightstand and the other into Jim's outstretched hand, not without some qualms. Unwelcome memories of their previous sexual encounters intruded, eating at this new and fragile bond between them. It didn't seem to matter that there was only going to be tonight; Blair knew that he would remember this night for the rest of his life.

He closed his eyes, listening as Jim tore open the wrapper and extracted the condom. The sharp tang of lubricated latex reminded him of their previous encounters, and suddenly Blair just wanted Jim to fuck him and get it over with so he could leave. A brief caress on his cock sent a shudder through him and Blair opened his eyes to see Jim's face only inches away.

"Blair." Jim's lips were almost touching Blair's and his breath flowed like silk across them. "Look at me."

He  _was_  looking. Couldn't have dragged his eyes away to save his life, not even when he felt the condom go on, cool and slick against the heat of his cock. This couldn't be happening... Jim had  _never_... not once... His heart was racing, his skin prickling with shock and excitement fuelled by the need he saw in Jim's eyes.

Speechless, he pushed Jim gently onto his back and laid himself between the parted thighs. Not a word, barely a sound, apart from their ragged breathing and the rustle of the bedding. He spread Jim's thighs wider, folding the long legs back across Jim's body with a lingering caress and lowered his head to lap gently at the puckered opening. Not for very long - every tremor of Jim's body proclaimed loudly how close his lover was to losing control and he didn't want that.

He slid a finger inside, not deep, just testing, and Jim took it easily. It was obvious that Jim was very experienced, in spite of the fact that he'd had always insisted on topping with Blair. Reluctant to waste any more time, Blair knelt between Jim's thighs, brushing his fingertips one last time across Jim's anus before easing the head of his cock inside. The sound Jim made would live in his memory forever as the very definition of need and desire.

"Please." Jim's chest heaved with the effort of getting that one work out. The icy calm of those blue eyes was lost, melted away by the intensity of desire that burned there now.

"Shh." Blair leaned forward, laying himself along Jim's body and thrusting gently with his hips. His cock slid deeper, sheathing itself snugly in Jim's heat. "It's all right, Jim. It's okay."

Jim's eyes closed and his jaw muscles tightened as Blair continued to move deeper inside him. He wrapped his arms and legs around Blair, clinging desperately. "Blair, please..."

Blair was all the way in now. He supported himself on his elbows so he could stroke Jim's sweating face and the short hair, spiky with dampness. He kissed the thinned lips, demanding entry to Jim's mouth and Jim surrendered to him without hesitation. Surely this couldn't be happening. It seemed too good, too perfect to be real.

He began to thrust, with slow, steady strokes that took all his self-control to maintain when what he wanted was to pound into his lover with all the power of his body. Beneath him, Jim rocked into each thrust, his body straining to take more of Blair inside himself, while his cock beat out a frenzied dance against Blair's belly.

It was too awkward to kiss for long. The difference in their heights was mostly due to Jim's longer legs, but not entirely. Blair broke the kiss reluctantly as his cock brushed against Jim's prostate. His lover's body arched violently and Jim threw his head back groaning in pleasure. With a soft sob, Blair buried his face against the taut curve of Jim's throat, licking away a thin rivulet of salty moisture.

"God, Chief, I can't..." but Jim's hands cupped his butt, urging him on.

Speech had become almost impossible now. Blair sucked hard on the tender skin at the base of Jim's throat and snuck a hand between their bodies. He squeezed Jim's cock; enough to ease the pressure for a while, but he knew it wouldn't last for long.

Jim must have known it too. His hands left Blair's ass and skimmed up to his shoulders, then caught Blair's face between them, forcing Blair to meet his gaze. It was shocking to see such stark desire in a man Blair would have described as cold and controlling only a few hours ago. He couldn't look away. Didn't want to, as he saw what little control Jim still retained disintegrating in front of his eyes. Deliberately, Blair forced down his own arousal, holding back just a little - all he was capable of right now - so he would see Jim's face as the other man came.

It happened quite suddenly. Those compelling eyes never left Blair's for a moment. He felt the long shaft thicken and pulse, and the gush of semen, overpowering the already searing heat of their bodies. Jim's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat, and something naked and painfully vulnerable shone for a moment in the crystal blue gaze. Then Jim relaxed beneath him, his eyes closed, and Blair was released.

* * *

It seemed Jim wasn't the only one in the bed who was stretched too thin. Almost as soon as he'd cleaned them both up, Blair fell asleep, curled up against Jim's side. He woke again to see the faint light of pre-dawn stealing through a crack in the curtains.

After a moment's disorientation he smiled. He was lying on his side with Jim spooned up behind him, one arm wrapped around his waist. Not a bad way to wake at all. A casual brush of fingertips against his belly sent arousal spiking through his nerve endings and Blair let out a yelp.

"Good morning to you, too." He could tell from the sound of his voice that Jim was smiling.

"Great wake up call, man." Blair wriggled round to face Jim, taking in the relaxed air, the softened expression of his face. They kissed lazily, allowing their bodies to melt into each other's. "We should do this more often."

Jim's face became wary. "I told you, Sandburg..."

"I know. It was just an expression, okay?" He kissed Jim again. "How do you feel about..."

Who would have guessed that Jim had such a nice laugh? "Take a wild guess, Einstein."

"Don't think I need to." Blair ran a fingertip along the evidence. "Do you?"

"Guess not." They kissed again and it was several minutes, at least, before Jim spoke again. "Turn over, babe."

The soft, throaty voice sent shivers of pleasure through his body. This time, Blair had no doubts or hesitation about what they were going to do. Jim's cock slid smoothly along the crease of his ass and Blair could feel the moist kiss of his cockhead. He drew his uppermost leg up a little and felt the pressure increase. He brushed his fingers idly along his thickening cock and moaned softly.

"Mmn. God you feel so good." Jim sucked gently on his ear lobe and his fingers teased Blair's nipple, turning the silver ring round and round to send delicate tendrils of sensation down to his groin.

"So do you,  _big guy_." Blair grinned as Jim groaned at the crude double entendre. If his blood hadn't all rushed into his cock, he probably would have thought of something better. Maybe. All he could really think about right now was how that other cock was going to feel inside him. "In-fucking-credible."

"Speaking of fucking..." Jim moved away a little and Blair had to force himself not to protest. In a moment he would have Jim inside him and that was what he wanted more than anything. So he just had to put up with that terrible feeling of isolation to get the prize.

Sure enough, after a brief rustling sound, Jim was back, pressing into his ass, pushing against the tight ring. Blair pushed back, loosening himself for his lover. The blunt cockhead popped through the resisting muscle and into his body with a brief flare of discomfort and slid at least half way in. Blair released a sigh of relief and thrust back, taking more of that hardness inside himself.

"Ji-im..." his breath came in harsh pants. It felt so good. Felt even better when Jim thrust that final tiny bit further inside him and came to rest, his balls pressed up against Blair's ass, his arms around Blair's waist. "Oh God, Jim..."

He'd gone soft when Jim entered him. Nothing unusual in that, but there was something incredibly tender about the way that Jim's long fingers cradled his cock so gently. The way his thumb caressed the sensitive cockhead. He pushed away the covers so he could watch as Jim slowly massaged the swelling flesh, teasing it to fullness again. Without thinking, Blair reached down, entwining his fingers with Jim's, but allowing his lover to control the movement. He felt breathless, dizzy with something far more profound than mere arousal. Jim felt it too, he was sure of that. Nothing else existed outside this movement of their joined hands against his cock.

Even after he'd become hard again, the slow caresses continued. Jim's cock was deep inside him, unmoving, and Blair was more aroused than he'd ever been in his life. His gut roiled with pleasure, his balls tightened, and still Jim remained motionless, except for that one hand. He hardly even seemed to be breathing.

Blair's chest ached as he struggled to drag in enough breath and he sobbed. He was gonna come... oh God, he was gonna...

White heat exploded from his cock, burning his belly and his fingers, and still Jim continued the slow stroking, relenting only when Blair's cock softened in their hands. Blair closed his eyes and fought to regain his breath. He couldn't remember the last time he'd come from just a simple touch.

Behind him, Jim sighed and pressed soft lips against the back of Blair's neck. His hands moved over Blair's belly and thighs, lightly inquisitive, in the way that a blind person would learn a shape by touch alone. Eventually, both hands came up to cradle Blair's sensitive genitals and at last Jim began to move his hips in time to some unheard rhythm.

After such an orgasm it shouldn't have been possible for Blair to become aroused again. But he did. Jim's lips and teeth were worrying gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and he was panting breathlessly now. His hips were pistoning, not hard, but relentlessly buffeting against Blair's prostate on every thrust.

The sharp jolts of stimulation brought Blair closer and closer to the edge. He moaned, feeling as much pain as pleasure in it now, but behind the physical sensations was a growing emotional connection that he would never willingly hinder. He closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing Jim to use his body, knowing with every fibre of his being that this was totally different to the other times that Jim had used him.

"I love you, Jim. I love you so much." He whispered the words, Sentinel soft, knowing that Jim wouldn't hear them. "I don't even know why. I just know that I do."

This time the climax was gentler, easier. He was too exhausted for anything else. Lying dazed and happy, he felt the sharp pulsing of Jim's cock, heard the anguished groan as his lover came, buried inside him. Then felt Jim withdraw immediately.

It was like a wash of icy water over his skin, this sudden retreat. The loss he felt was indescribable. "No! Jim!"

"It's all right." Jim brushed a kiss across his temple. "Just a second."

Blair heard a rustle of cloth. He turned his head in time to see Jim dispose of the used condom, then pick up the damp washcloth Blair had used to clean them both up earlier.

"I'm just cleaning us up a bit. And then..." Jim hesitated, looking nervous. "I want you to know I'm clean. You know."

He blinked dazedly, not understanding why this was an issue. "Sure."

"I want to... I just want to be inside you while I'm still hard enough." A flush spread across Jim's cheekbones. "I want to stay inside you as long as I possibly can, but the condom..."

"Oh." A hazy warmth spread through Blair and he smiled. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah..." Jim lay down behind him. With a bit of fumbling, he managed to ease his softening cock into Blair's ass.

"Mmn..." Blair relaxed back against Jim's solid strength. "Yeah. I like this."

A kiss landed somewhere on the back of his shoulder and Jim's arms wrapped around him. "I want this to be the last thing you feel before you go to sleep."

And it was.

* * *

"Sandburg, wake up."

A large hand shook his shoulder impatiently, and Blair struggled out of sleep. He recognised immediately that he was alone in the bed and opened his eyes. Banks was bent over him, the expression on his face reinforcing the message of his hand and voice.

"Where's Jim?" Blair rolled over to look towards the bathroom door, but there was no sign of Jim and no sound from within. "Simon, where is he?"

Banks turned away from the bed and Blair realised that he was not only naked, but that the rumpled bedding he had fallen asleep in was now smoothed carefully over his body to mid-chest. There was something so careful, so caring in that unnecessary gesture that Blair somehow knew that Jim was gone. He sat up.

"Simon?  _Please_ , man."

"He left you this." Banks held out an envelope without turning around and Blair took it numbly.

Jim had said it would only be this one night, but Blair had counted on being able to convince him otherwise. Instead, they'd made love and fallen asleep almost immediately. Twice. How could he have been so  _stupid_?

He turned the envelope over but didn't open it. It seemed too final, too much like he was somehow acquiescing to Jim's decision, and he wasn't. If there was any possibility of finding Jim, Blair knew he was going to do it.

"Simon, you can get in touch with him, can't you?" Despite his best efforts, Blair's voice cracked. "This is important, man. He said his senses were off line. I can help him."

"He told me you'd say that." Banks picked up a tidily folded pile of clothes from the end of the bed and passed them to Blair.

They were Blair's clothes, he discovered. Jim must have done that, too.  _He_  certainly hadn't, and it seemed unlikely Banks would bother. Blair hugged the bundle to his chest and swallowed the lump in his throat. Jim and his anal-retentive tidiness habit...

"Come on, Sandburg. We have to get out of here." Banks' voice was gruff. "He won't be coming back here, okay? Whatever you're planning to do, you might as well forget this place. The hotel records will show that this room's been empty for the past week while it was being renovated."

Shit. He'd already thought of using the hotel records to track Jim down. He should have known better than to pin his hopes on something so obvious. He'd find Jim somehow. He just wasn't sure how. Yet. Well, the first step was to get out of here, and away from Banks. He began pulling his clothes on hurriedly.

* * *

_Chief,_

_I'm not much good at letter writing at the best of times and saying goodbye to you is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Please don't try to find me. You won't succeed, but you could get into a lot of trouble for trying. Simon can't help you, and wouldn't even if he could. So, please, just leave it alone._

_I think you know now that I never wanted to hurt you. I did what I did because it was the only way I could deal with the case, and my senses, and you, all at the same time. You have no idea, and I wouldn't want you to, how much danger you were in. As long as I was around it would have continued. If I'd allowed myself to feel all the things you made me want to feel, I couldn't have done my job properly, or kept you safe throughout. That's why last night had to be the only night. You don't belong in my world._

_Don't worry about me. I'm hoping that my senses stay off line. They're too much of a double-edged sword to be useful to me. And if they do come back, then there are people in the Unit who can use your information to help me._

_Thank you for everything._

_Jim_

_PS: I love you too._  
  
Blair crumpled the letter in his hands and threw it across the warehouse into the darkness.

Five minutes later, he'd retrieved it and smoothed out the creases. It took another half dozen read throughs before he realised what it was that nagged at his memory. ' _I love you too_ ' Jim had written. Which meant he'd heard Blair's declaration of love - which meant he'd lied about his senses being off line.

 _Damn_  him!

* * *

"Ah, Blair. Come in, come in." Eli smiled at him just a little too widely.

He was getting used to that - people trying to ignore how he looked. It irritated Blair. Did they think he didn't have a mirror, or something? He knew he was a mess. He just didn't care. "I got your message, Eli. What do you want?"

Eli's smile faded. That could have come out more graciously, Blair supposed. He dropped into the only chair that didn't have piles of books or folders on it. "Sorry. I've been a bit under the weather lately."

"So I've heard." At least Eli looked sympathetic. "It's the thesis, isn't it? Blair, you always knew it was a long shot. The chances of finding a fully functioning Sentinel, if they even exist, were very slim."

"They  _do_  exist, Eli. I found one." Blair leaned forward, eagerness replacing apathy, however briefly. "I just can't use him in my study. And it's not that. It's... it's personal."

"So you'll present your proposal on the closed societies idea? It really could be quite seminal, particularly in your hands, Blair." Eli grinned. "You always manage to find a refreshingly unique approach."

"I don't know, Eli." He sank back again, all animation gone. "I'm thinking about dropping out. I just... it just doesn't seem that important any more."

"Blair, please. Promise me you won't do anything hasty." Alarm replaced the geniality on Eli's face. "I'd heard some talk, but I had no idea things had got to this stage. Why didn't you come to me?"

Blair shrugged. "There's nothing you can do."

"Actually, you're wrong." Eli paused expectantly, but Blair simply waited. The professor sighed. "I've just received funding for an expedition to Borneo. I hadn't initially thought of asking you to come along, as I thought you'd be busy with your thesis, but if you're not planning to go ahead with it immediately... Blair, this is exactly what got you interested in Anthropology at the beginning. Please say you'll come."

It was frightening to realise that not even this prospect raised any real interest. Blair smiled perfunctorily. "I'll think about it."

* * *

A couple more days dragged by. Blair hadn't given Eli an answer, hadn't even thought much about it, which was indication enough of what his answer was likely to be. When the knock came on his warehouse door, he assumed it was Eli, or some other friend who might have been worrying about him. He'd tried to discourage them from coming round, not always successfully.

"Mr Sandburg?" The man himself was unknown to Blair, but he recognised the type. Did they all buy their suits from the same tailor?

"What do you want?" His tone was as unfriendly as he knew how to make it. Obviously, it wasn't unfriendly enough - the man's face remained impassive.

"May we have a word with you?"

Blair craned his neck to look over the much taller man's shoulder. Another agent was standing behind and to the left, concealed by the doorframe until now. "Look, I don't know what you think I can tell you. I just don't remember much about that night. Besides, shouldn't you have questioned me at the time?"

The second man gently pushed aside his companion. "This isn't about the... uh... case you were assisting us with. We need your help."

"You need  _my_  help?" This was getting weirder by the moment. "Unless you've got some tribal cultures you want to study..."

"We're interested in a very specific tribal phenomenon." The second man interrupted him smoothly. "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. There's a colleague of ours who needs your help."

Blair sagged against the doorway as all the air suddenly whooshed out of his lungs. He wheezed in enough to speak. "Jim? Has something happened?"

"If you could come with us?" The first agent took his arm in a firm grip. "We can take you to him."

Commonsense dictated he call Banks, or ask for identification. Blair simply walked out and closed the door, climbing into a black sedan with darkened windows without a moment's hesitation.

They drove him to a small airfield where a private jet was waiting. As soon as the three of them boarded and had belted themselves into their seats, the plane took off. One of the men closed the shutter over the window with a small grimace of apology. Blair shrugged. Perhaps he ought to be alarmed that he was being taken so far away from anyone who knew him, but all he wanted was to get to Jim as quickly as possible.

Neither man spoke to him during the three hour flight. Compared to them, Jim was positively garrulous, and Blair was about ready to explode with frustration by the time they arrived at their destination. After a short car trip, he was hustled out of the car into a large, echoing parking garage, then through a door and down a long corridor. They finally left him in a small windowless room with just a couple of chairs to furnish it. Blair paced.

Even by his impatient standards, he wasn't kept waiting very long. A tall, thin academic looking man came in and smiled apologetically. "Mr Sandburg. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah, sure. What's happened to Jim?"

"I was hoping you might be able to explain that to me." He turned and led the way out of the room. Blair followed. "He appears to be undergoing some kind of allergic reaction. If so, it's like nothing I've ever seen before. The usual treatments are having no effect whatsoever. He's slipped into something resembling a catatonic state."

"Oh my God. Where  _is_  he?" Blair grabbed the other man's arm. "How long has this been going on?"

"The first symptoms appeared two days ago, according to Agent Ellison. He called in for assistance yesterday, around noon, and his condition rapidly deteriorated. He complained of head pain, brought on by loud noise and visual over stimulation."

"Lights too bright?" Blair hurried his pace, forcing the doctor to speed up too.

"Essentially. Then he complained that his skin felt like it was on fire and he could smell... 'something disgusting' was the term he used." They stopped at a door and the doctor glanced through the window at a large piece of equipment in the centre of the room. It looked like... "As none of the drugs I used had any effect, the decision was made to reduce sensory stimulation."

"It's an isolation tank?" Suddenly the mass of tubing and framework made sense.

"A rather makeshift one, I'm afraid." The doctor shrugged. "It seems to have helped, but Ellison became unresponsive once he was put in there."

"Okay." Blair took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "Can I go in now?"

The doctor smiled in obvious relief. "Please do."

Jim was lying in a huge open tank, naked and hooked up to a half dozen monitoring machines. He was almost completely covered by lukewarm water, with only his face above the surface. His eyes had been covered with cotton pads and he was breathing through an oxygen tube in his nose. Blair had to resist the urge to pull all the equipment away. If all Jim's senses were in overdrive, then it would be better to work on only one at a time.

"Jim?" Blair whispered his lover's name. There was no response, but if Jim had been having trouble with his hearing... after a moment, he found the white noise generator and switched it off. "Jim? It's me. Blair. It's time to come back now."

There was not the slightest flicker of response, but Blair had expected that. Twenty minutes later, however, he was becoming increasingly worried. He thought back over all his interactions with Jim and, after a moment, smacked himself on the forehead. Of course! One thing that had been  _so_  obvious he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. Jim had touched him constantly. Touch  _had_  to be his strongest sense. He should turn the white noise generator back on for the time being.

Blair leaned over the tank and began to stroke his fingertips across the smooth cheek. After only a few minutes the muscles tightened a little under his touch. He continued the feathery touching, moving down a little to Jim's throat and back up again, trailing a few drops of water across Jim's skin. Tiny frown lines appeared on Jim's forehead.

It seemed to be working, but not enough. Blair suspected that the isolation tank had allowed Jim's over stimulated senses to shut down, and the traumatised Sentinel had subconsciously decided he didn't want to return. A tiny grin tugged at the corners of Blair's mouth. "Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

Might as well do the traditional thing, he supposed. He leaned over the still figure and kissed Jim's lips cautiously. Amazingly, they softened under his and parted slightly. Blair slid his tongue into Jim's mouth, giving the other man plenty of opportunity chance to taste him. When he drew back, Jim sighed a little, though he was still nowhere near out of it yet.

Touch and taste seemed to be back online. Blair considered his options, still absently stroking Jim's cheek. Since sight and hearing had been the first to go, maybe they should be left till last. Okay. Blair carefully removed the oxygen tube, then leaned over the tank again, kissing Jim and nuzzling his face, giving him a generous whiff of sweaty skin. His hand slid down over Jim's chest, under the water, teased a nipple for a moment and then settled over the steady heartbeat.

It certainly felt like Jim was responding, though he was still far from regaining consciousness. Blair was encouraged enough to turn off the white noise generator again. He alternated between kissing and crooning nonsense sounds under his breath while his fingers skittered across Jim's skin. After a few minutes Jim seemed to be responding to all the different stimuli.

"Jim? Come on, lover. Time to wake up now." He kissed Jim again, then slipped his fingertips between the parted lips. Jim suckled them instinctively for a moment and sighed. "Jim, I want you to come back now. Don't worry about your eyes, they're just covered, okay? As soon as you wake up, I'll take off the eye pads, I promise. The light's a bit bright in here, that's all. Come on, man, wake up... I want to talk to you, Jim."

"And that's supposed to be an incentive?" The voice was thick and slurred, but Blair had never heard anything more beautiful.

"Well, if you want me to keep on rambling..." Blair grinned and leaned over for a quick kiss. "Just lie still. I'll turn the lights down before I take those pads off."

He was back in moment, and gently peeled off the pads. Jim's eyes teared up a little, even in that dim light, but he blinked a few times then turned his head to stare at Blair. "It really is you."

Relief flooded through him. "You don't think one of those goons would kiss you. Do you?"

"Chief, my senses have been so screwy lately, I can't trust them." The tired resignation in Jim's voice, so uncharacteristic of him, brought an ache to Blair's chest.

"I'm real. I promise." For a moment he could only stare in helpless anguish, unsure whether Jim would want him to touch or kiss him. Jim, after all, had been the one to walk away.

"Blair..." Jim's voice faded out and he lifted one hand almost out of the water before letting it drop back with a tiny splash.

God, what an idiot he was. Jim was so weak he could hardly move. Blair leaned over his for a brief, gentle kiss. "I'll need some help to get you out of here. Just wait, okay?"

"Not going anywhere." Jim's eyes drifted shut.

With the assistance of the doctor, Blair stripped off all the patches that connected Jim to the monitors. He left the IV drip and catheter to the doctor's more experienced hands. When it was done, Blair eased his arm under Jim's shoulders and helped him to sit up. It wasn't going to be easy getting him out of the tank. But luckily, there was a simple solution. The tank was drained and then one side was unsealed and lowered so Jim could swing his legs around and take the single step necessary to get to the wheelchair they had waiting for him.

He sank into it, still naked, and Blair draped some large towels around him - enough to cover him and keep him warm. "He needs to rest. Somewhere quiet."

"Of course. We have a room ready for him." The doctor led them out into the hallway again. Two doors further down, there was a room with a bed and not much else. "The room is soundproofed. He should be fine."

"What about the sheets? Are they pure cotton? Washed in that detergent I told Jim to use?" it would be no use, Blair knew, to put Jim in that bed otherwise. It would only start the whole cycle over again.

"Yes, yes." The doctor smiled. "Joel passed on all your instructions. I've followed them to the letter."

"Good." Blair patted the towel over Jim's damp hair before helping him into the bed. Jim sank down into the mattress, his eyes closing instantly. "I should stay with him. He responds better to me than anyone else."

"Of course. Just use the phone if you need anything."

As soon as the door closed behind the doctor, Blair began stripping off his clothes. He slid into the single bed and wrapped his arms around Jim. The larger man turned into his arms with a weary groan and seemed to sink into a deep sleep.

* * *

Jim slept for about an hour without stirring then, between one heartbeat and the next, there was a subtle change in the way his body fitted against Blair's. It was the only indication that he was now awake.

Blair brushed his fingertips lightly over Jim's shoulder. "Feeling better?"

"Much." After a momentary pause, Jim moved away, as far as that was possible in the narrow bed. "I guess I owe you."

"You sure do." Blair obligingly scooted over and rolled onto his side. Jim was still pale, his eyes shadowed, but he did look better. Blair brushed his fingers over the sparse two-day growth on Jim's jaw. "You look good scruffy. Not like me."

Jim caught his fingers in a firm grip, holding them away from his face. "They shouldn't have brought you here. I told them I didn't want you involved any more."

"Dammit, Jim, you could have died. What did you expect them to do?" Blair took a deep breath and tried another tack. "I wanted to come. I  _want_  to be involved. Don't you understand that?"

He recognised, all too well, the stubborn tilt of Jim's jaw. "I almost got you killed once. Wasn't that enough? You don't belong in my world."

"If I don't belong with you, then I don't belong anywhere." It was true, but the words sounded impossibly melodramatic, and Blair knew he'd have to convince Jim of that if he was to have any hope of getting what he wanted. "I  _know_  why nobody else can get you out of a zone, Jim. Why you can't control your senses when I'm not with you."

"Oh yeah? And why is that?"

"You remember I told you about how primitive Sentinels always had a guide? Someone who'd watch their back, help them with their senses?" If ever he'd needed to spin a good story, it was now. Jim didn't need to know that almost everything he was about to hear was no more than speculation, extrapolated from the very meagre information he'd found.

"There's evidence that, like the Sentinel, whoever was chosen as his guide had some kind of empathic ability beyond normal parameters. The Guide couldn't be just anybody, Jim. He had to be someone the Sentinel would respond to; it's not something that can be taught. If you don't let me help you, there won't be anybody else who can."

"I'll take that chance." Jim pushed himself up into a sitting position with a groan. "Don't you understand? You could have died. You're not trained for the kind of life I lead."

"I didn't do so badly, did I?" Blair leaned closer, slid an arm around Jim's waist. "Or are you trying to tell me I suck at covert ops?"

"You'd have to learn to use a gun." A hint of desperation crept into Jim's voice. "You'd have to be able to kill. Is that what you want?"

"I'll... I'll take my chances on that." If that was what it took, he'd do it. Blair had never been more certain of anything than this; he belonged with his Sentinel. He belonged with Jim, and not even Jim was going to deny him that place.

"God, Sandburg..." Jim closed his eyes briefly, "did it ever occur to you that I don't want that? I don't want you to be anything other than what you are right now."

Blair smiled. "Aww... that's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me." He pushed gently at Jim's chest, urging him to lie down again, then leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. "I won't change, not who I really am."

"Won't you?" Jim looked absolutely exhausted. His fingers tangled in Blair's hair, brushing it back from his cheek.

"Count on it, man." He turned his head slightly to nuzzle Jim's palm. "There's something else you should know. I won't wear a suit, and I'm not cutting my hair."

Jim's eyes lit up and he grinned, tugging on the hank of hair to bring Blair closer. "Damn right you're not cutting it."

 


End file.
